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laTRHY] 


ISaLLIEI 


JUST BOYS 



JUST BOYS 


JANGLES FROM 
THE CHOIR ROOM 


By 

MARY BUELL WOOD 


ILLUSTRATED 



New York Chicago Toronto 

Fleming H. Revell Company 

London and Edinburgh 


Copyright, 1909, by 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 



New York: 1*58 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue 
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinbu rgh; 100 Princes Street 





Here’s that bunch of ’Piscopal singing sissies— fergot yer nighties, didn’t yer? 



In 

My 


loving memory 
Mother and Aunt 



CONTENTS 


I. 

In Spite of the Bishop 


9 

IL 

The Dare-Devil . 


. 21 

III. 

Getting Even 


• 30 

IV. 

A Battle Royal . 


• 43 

V. 

The Compelling of Jimmy 


. 58 

VI. 

The New Recruit 


. 69 

VII. 

A Debt of Honour 


. 81 

VIII. 

More Trouble 


. 102 

IX. 

The Great Game . 


. 116 

X. 

A Choir Room Zoo 


. 136 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Facing page 

Just Boys Title 

** Here’s that Bunch of Tiscopal Singing Sissies — 

Fergot Yer Nighties, Didn’t Yer ? ” . . i8 

“ Headed by Howard, the Tall Crucifier, with the 
Dare-Devil, Looking Very Small Indeed, on 
His Right” ...... 25 

“We Men Know We Can Do Anything We 

Make Up Our Minds To” . . • 37‘ 

Christie, the Admired and Versatile Class Leader 43 

Charlie, the Dare-Devil — “ Proud Title, Bestowed 

for His Proficiency in All Feats of Mischief” 43 

“ Ketch Hold of Him, Charlie, ’n I’ll Take His 

Other Arm. Come On, Now ” . . 62 

“How ’re We Ever Going to Raise that Fifteen 

Dollars?” . . . . . .72 

“ Say, What’s Jim Knight Doing Over Here ? ” . 81 

“An’ Now He’s One of Us ” . . . .100 

“ Oh, Howard, Help Us Out, Do ! ” . . 1 1 2 

“Jim’s Got Something to Tell You, Mr. Waters. 

We Ain’t Won that Game After All ” . . 132 

“ Oh, Allie, You’ve Found Her — the Dear Little 

Thmg— Tell Us All About It ” . . .136 





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JUST BOYS 


I 

IN SPITE OF THE BISHOP 

I T all began with the Bishop. In an un- 
guarded moment he said, and the quick 
ears caught it, that it was a shame, after 
they had sung through that long service, to 
make the choir boys stay to Sunday-school. 

Now that choir class had long been a thorn 
in the flesh to a succession of teachers, who, 
one by one, had retired baffled from the strug- 
gle. 

Its custom had been to tear off its cottas 
and cassocks, cast them on the choir room 
floor, and race whooping out of the church- 
yard and down the street, pursued by a pant- 
ing and exasperated young woman, whom after 
a sufficiently interesting chase, it finally al- 
lowed to corral and lead it back for the so- 
called lesson. 


9 


10 


JUST BOYS 


From his fertility of resource in all kinds of 
mischief, as much as from his masterful spirit, 
Christie McCourt was its acknowledged leader, 
with Charlie Stolter a close second. What 
one did not think of the other did. Christie 
was twelve and tall for his age, while Charlie 
was a very little boy of ten, the baby in his home 
circle, gentle and affectionate in the extreme. 
It was only when combined with the rest of the 
choir to stimulate and admire, that he became 
worthy of his proud title of “ Dare-devil.” 

Naturally the Bishop’s agreeable and unex- 
pected remark had thrown the class into the 
most gleeful and unmanageable state. 

“ Oh, Bishop, how could you say that ? ” al- 
most tearfully remonstrated Miss Chalmers, its 
present long-suffering custodian ; ‘‘ now I’ll 
never be able to get them to come at all.” 

“ Well, don’t you think it is a shame, your- 
self ? ” 

“ But if they don’t stay, they’re not going 
home. They’ll simply roam the streets look- 
ing for fresh mischief, or else they’ll go to some 
other Sunday-school where their friends are I ” 
lamented the zealous churchwoman. 


IN SPITE OF THE BISHOP 


11 


“ Indeed, my dear, I’m very sorry, but if I 
took back what I said now, it would be worse 
than if I let it alone. I don’t see anything for 
it, but for you to persuade them to come, ‘ in 
spite of the Bishop.’ ” 

“ I’ll have to try, but I’m afraid you’re too 
powerful an argument against me.” 

However, the faithful young woman cud- 
gelled her brains until she had evolved a work- 
ing scheme. The following Sunday she went 
into the choir room before service, when all her 
flock were gathered together waiting the 
strains of the processional, and thus addressed 
them : 

“ Boys, you heard what the Bishop said last 
week ” 

Delighted chuckles, and shouts of “ Gee ! 
Guess we did ! ” 

“ Well, of course he is perfectly right. We 
never go back of what our Bishop says. So I 
will tell you right now that you needn’t come 
to Sunday-school unless you want to.” 

Miss Chalmers paused a moment artfully, to 
let this announcement sink into the astounded 
minds before her. 


12 


JUST BOYS 


“ No,” she went on, “ no one need come — in 
fact it is going to be a question of who will be 
allowed to come. I am of course going to 
have a class, but it will be only twenty minutes 
long. I have an entirely new plan in regard 
to lessons, and there will be a great many sur- 
prises, which I haven’t time to enter into now. 
There goes the signal. The first surprise will 
be next Sunday.” And before the dazed class 
had recovered itself, it was marching into 
church behind the crucifer, mechanically sing- 
ing “ Onward, Christian Soldiers ” — which it 
was well that it knew by heart. 

The next Sunday found the choir class in its 
entirety meekly seated on its benches, its vest- 
ments neatly hung on their proper pegs, and 
with a pleased atmosphere of expectation per- 
vading the choir room, when Miss Chalmers 
entered, accompanied by tall, broad-shouldered 
Mr. Tilson, its own special curate. 

“ Boys,” said Miss Chalmers briskly, “ Mr. 
Tilson is going to tell us about the great goal 
he kicked when he was half-back on the Yale 
eleven. His text will be, ‘Whatsoever thy 
hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.’ As 


m SPITE OF THE BISHOP 


13 


you have been singing so long, we will omit 
the service, and begin at once with the sermon.” 

At the most exciting point in the “ sermon,” 
Mr. Tilson snapped his watch, and quietly ob- 
serving : “ The twenty minutes are up ; hymn 
505, ‘Fight the good fight with all thy 
might ’ ” — dismissed the class with the usual 
collects and departed himself. 

“ You may go, boys,” said Miss Chalmers, 
calmly. 

For the first time known to history, the class 
declined to be dismissed. It hung around. 

“ Say, Miss Chalmers, ain’t he goin’ to tell 
us the end of that game ? ” came in amazed 
protest. 

“ Perhaps so — next Sunday — but you needn’t 
come if you don’t want to, you know, and 
twenty minutes is the limit for this class.” 

“ Oh, yes, we’ll be here — we’d just as soon 
come as not.” 

And the following week, Mr. Tilson fin- 
ished his “ sermon ” with a few pointed sug- 
gestions as to whole-hearted service of all 
kinds — no cheating in games — no shirking in 
work. 


14 


JUST BOYS 


By such and other ingenious but simple 
methods did Miss Chalmers carry out her 
compact, and Sunday by Sunday her flock in- 
creased, till she at last began to feel that she 
had conquered the problem of how to entice 
and hold fast, and that the choir class was 
subjugated “ in spite of the Bishop.” 

“Mr. Tilson just told me the Bishop’s 
cornin’ next Sunday, fellers,” announced 
Christie McCourt, taking off his jacket, and 
getting into his cassock ; “ he’s white, he is. 
I ain’t at all sure I sha’n’t git confirmed next 
class.” 

This astounding statement paralyzed his 
hearers, to whom Christie’s devilments were a 
constant source of envy and inspiration. Mr. 
Burke, the choirmaster, would long ago have 
released the class leader and his partner in 
mischief from further attendance on choir 
practice, but that they liked to sing, and there- 
fore could be depended upon for their solos. 
Accordingly he shut his eyes to much of their 
pranks, and Christie’s melting notes still soared 
aloft and drew tears to the eyes of the congre- 
gation on those Sundays when the sight of the 


IN SPITE OP THE BISHOP 


15 


golden-haired, blue-eyed little seraph singing 
on the opposite side of the chancel did not 
produce a like effect. 

The next Sunday dawned clear and bright — 
a cloudless summer day. The long service had 
progressed without a hitch — the boys always 
behaved perfectly when the Bishop was there, 
because they liked him — so Mr. Burke was not 
harassed as usual, and could listen to the ser- 
mon himself. The Bishop was perhaps the 
only person present who was not enjoying 
things. He was busy suppressing the wish 
that his presence was not always the signal 
for an elaborate musical programme wherever 
he went, lengthening the service, and adding 
to his fatigue. 

Miss Chalmers viewed her flock, its eyes 
glued to his face, with mingled satisfaction 
and relief. The sermon was short, and the 
office proceeded to its close. 

Suddenly in the midst of the Gloria she dis- 
tinctly heard shrill whistles, followed by a 
crash, and the hideous hissing of escaping 
steam. The proximity of the railroad tracks 
to the rear of its churchyard had long been a 


16 


JUST BOYS 


standing grievance to the congregation of St. 
Michael’s. 

There could be no doubt that a collision had 
occurred. Fortunately the organ and the boys’ 
own loudly chorused voices had prevented the 
noise penetrating the choir stalls, but how long 
after service would it be before the entrancing 
news would reach them, and then what would 
become of the class she had been so proudly 
looking forward to presenting as evidence of 
her efforts “ in spite of the Bishop ” ? Through 
the open door she could see other and non-ec- 
clesiastically hampered boys alreadj^ starting 
down the bank. Quickly summoning her 
mother wit to the aid of her knowledge of 
boys, she slipped out of church, and was in 
the choir room, her back against the door, 
when the white-robed band, dismissed in the 
vestry after the recessional, came out. She 
was resolved on a daring and risky experi- 
ment. Would her faith be justified ? 

“ Boys,” she said, her voice shaking a little, 
“hang up your cottas, and then get your 
caps. I want you all to go out and be gone 
just ten minutes by Christie’s watch. I will 


m SPITE OF THE BISHOP 17 

tell you why in a minute, but first, can I trust 
you to come back again if I let you go ? ” 

“ Sure you can,” spoke up the class leader. 
Til bring’m.” 

“ Very well, I shall depend upon you, 
Christie. How,” throwing wide open the 
door, “ let me tell you that just underneath 
the bank there has been an accident on the 

railroad, and ” but she was speaking to 

empty benches. Out and over and through 
door and windows, poured a stream of shout- 
ing, struggling boys, and in the background 
appeared an anxious rector and an amused 
Bishop. 

“ Oh, my dear Helen, what did you do that 
for ? Of course they won’t come back — why 
didn’t you have your class first, and then let 
them go ? ” 

“Because, rector, I knew they’d hear the 
noise, and beside I wanted to try an experiment. 
I believe they’ll come back.” But her heart 
weakened within her. 

It would have fainted altogether had she 
followed her flock to the scene of enchant- 
ment. There, right underneath their own 


18 


JUST BOYS 


bank, lay the great freight wreck. Nothing 
could be more alluring. One engine was rid- 
ing rampant on top of the other. Cars stood 
on end, or had plunged into the river, or were 
piled up in masses of the most hopeless and 
fascinating confusion. The choir class stood 
rivetted to the spot, its eyes standing out of 
its head, awed into speechlessness. 

‘‘ Gee ! Here’s those Tiscopal singing sissies 
— the whole bunch of’m. Fergot yer nighties, 
didn’t yer ? ” 

The speaker was Jimmy Knight, of the 
popular Sunday-school across the way, sur- 
rounded by what the rector called a bevy of 
“ young heathen,” and one need not be a choir 
boy to realize the deadly insult of this dart. 

“ Sissy yourself ! ” retorted the Dare-devil, 
ever valiant, and with an old grudge to settle, 
taking off his cassock preparatory to sailing in. 
But Christie, more prudent, held him back. 

“We can’t lay him out now — don’t you 
know we’ve gotter go back ? ” Back ! The 
volatile minds had already forgotten their 
promise. But Christie was of different stuff. 

“ Yes,” he said firmly, “ in just two minutes, 


IN SPITE OP THE BISHOP 


19 


we’re all goin’ up the hill again. We 
promised Miss Chalmers, ’n we ain’t sneaks, 
see?” 

Aw, fellers, just git enter the sissy boys — 
gotter go back ’n say their Catechism. They 
dassent stay — their Bishop’s there, ’n he’s goin’ 
ter catch’m, ’n confirm the whole bunch 1 ” 

Nothing but sheer will-power withheld the 
class leader from answering these heaped-up 
taunts in battle royal. 

‘‘ All right for you^ Jim Knight — ^you just 
wait ! ” was all he dared permit himself, as he 
generalled his reluctant forces, and marched 
them back up the hill in what was verily a 
strait and narrow path. 

“And only five minutes late, you see, 
Bishop,” Miss Chalmers was saying exult- 
antly. 

But the Bishop looked very serious. 

“Boys,” he said, “I’m proud of the class 
that kept together ‘ in spite of the Bishop.’ I 
wonder if you know how much this means — 
your coming back this way! You’ve lived 
out my text this morning — do any of you re- 
member it ? ” 


20 


JUST BOYS 


“Yes, sir, 1 do,” said Christie, promptly ; 
“ ‘ Better is he that ruleth his spirit, than he 
that taketh a city ’ — but just wait till I catch 
that Jim Knight when I ain’t said I’d come 
back ! ” 


II 

THE DARE-DEVIL 

A INT it awful hard to remember all 
that ? ” asked Charlie Stolter, whose 
^ proficiency in all feats of mischief 
had won him, young as he was, the proud title 
of “ Dare-devil,” as the choir boys gathered ad- 
miringly around the small, red-cassocked form 
which on week-days was only little Willie 
Crosby, and but recently promoted from their 
own rank to that of the altar boys. 

“ Not so awful after you git used to it ; and 
Bernie tells me a lot. The worst is the wheel- 
ing ; Howard’s so tall, I gotter take four little 
steps to git ’round when he does.” 

The altar boys were a notch higher in the 
ecclesiastical scale than the choir boys, and the 
distinction was felt in both ranks. Not only 
were their vestments more elaborate as to fash- 
ion and vivid as to hue, being of sheerest lawn 
and over red, in contrast to the plain black- 
21 


22 


JUST BOYS 


and-white of the choir, but their whole atmos- 
phere was one of a higher altitude. 

To be sure, as Willie said, ‘‘ You couldn^t 
have any fun, ’n it was awful quiet ’n perlite,” 
still, a distinct value attaches to the remote 
and aloof, which outweighs its penalties. 
What, for instance, was the somewhat stale 
and barren satisfaction of tying up the sleeves 
of another feller’s cassock five minutes before 
vesting time, to the exciting and ever fresh at- 
traction of candle lighting, bestowed for the 
week, according to the honour roll ? And to 
march sedately in with your comrade just be- 
fore service in your red cassock with the eyes 
of the congregation following your every 
move, and solemnly to pass to your side of the 
altar, there to see the lights twinkle out one by 
one under your taper ? 

What again was the comparative immunity 
of the choir stalls from detection in a quiet 
whisper during the Epistle, to the importance 
of filing slowly down to the steps of the 
chancel, there to receive into the large covered 
alms basin the rattling contents of the offer- 
tory plates, and finally with your mate to bear 


THE DAEE-DEVIL 


23 


the same with slow and military precision up 
the exact centre of the long chancel to the 
waiting celebrant ? 

Well might those on whom such glory and 
dignity rested feel that between them and their 
former trifling existence in the choir room, 
there was a gulf fixed, and that it were whole- 
some for the present choir to bear this fact 
ever in mind. 

One bright morning in June, the Bishop 
was to visit St. MichaePs, for which he seemed 
to have always a specially warm spot in his 
heart. He and the rector, walking down the 
leafy street together, did not dream of the 
consternation in the ranks of the altar boys. 
Willie Crosby’s mother had sent word that 
Willie was down with measles, and could not 
possibly be there. What was to be done ? 
There was now no mate for Bernie Winchester. 
Any other position could easily be filled by 
one of the other servers, but for Willie’s part 
in the service only a very small boy would 
answer, and they were all too large and too 
old. 

Miss Chalmers, of whose choir class they 


24 


JUST BOYS 


had all in their turn been members before their 
translation from the choir room to the higher 
sphere, was called in consultation with Mr. 
Tilson, their own special curate, and Mr. 
Burke, the choirmaster. 

“Can’t one of your boys do it, Burke?” 
asked Mr. Tilson. 

“ I should think Charlie Stolter might, he’s 
so quick and imitative, and he’s the right size,” 
suggested Miss Chalmers. 

“ But he’s so full of mischief, he’d be sure to 
laugh,” objected Mr. Burke. 

“ Better try him, anyway,” said the curate. 
“ Here, Charlie, do you think you could take 
Willie’s place to-day ? ” 

“ Gee ! I dassent — I’d sure queer it.” 

“ Oh, no, dear, you needn’t be afraid ; you’ve 
seen it done so many times you won’t make a 
mistake, and Bernie will prompt you, won’t 
you, Bernie ? ” 

“Sure,” said Bernie. “Come on, kid — all 
you’ve got to remember is to keep your eyes 
on me, and do what I do. I’ll tell you when 
to wheel.” 

“But who’s to sing Charlie’s solo in the 



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“ Headed by Howard, the tall crucifer, with the Dare-devil looking 
very small indeed, on the right.” 


THE DAEE-DEVIL 


26 


Sanctus ? ” remonstrated Mr. Burke. “ Chris- 
tie McCourt has a sore throat and can’t take 
it; Allie Dugan might, but he’s so bashful I’m 
afraid his voice wouldn’t come out.” 

‘‘Well, he’ll have to ahake it out to-day,” 
laughed the curate. 

“ They’ll all try their best, they’re so de- 
voted to the Bishop,” added Miss Chalmers, 
encouragingly. 

And by the time the higher dignitaries ar- 
rived, all signs of perturbation had vanished, 
except in the anxious faces of the under- 
studies. 

It was a High Festival, and around the 
church marched the procession headed by 
Howard, the tall crucifer, with the Dare-devil, 
looking very small indeed, on his right, trying 
hard to take those long strides without getting 
out of step. 

“ Eejoice ” — sang the choir boys — “ rejoice, 
give thanks and sing.” 

It was all the Dare-devil could do to keep 
from joining in, but he set his lips tight, and 
solemnly stalked on up the chancel steps, and 
passed with Bernie to one side as the long pro- 


26 


JUST BOYS 


cession filed up, two by two, and overflowed 
into choir stalls and sanctuary seats. 

At last the service commenced — the Bishop’s 
sermon was soon a thing of the past — the offer- 
tory had been attended by less jangling and 
rattling than usual — the music was going per- 
fectly. Mr. Tilson, at the gleaming, flower- 
decked altar, was never in finer voice. 

Miss Chalmers, glancing up, suddenly started. 
What was the matter with Charlie ? His head 
was nodding — now it rested against Bernie. 
Poor little fellow — kneeling so long, and the 
close scent of the flowers, had made him sleepy. 
Ho one would notice, though. 

Evermore praising Thee, and saying ” 

chanted Mr. Tilson. In the hush that fol- 
lowed every head was bowed. 

Then up swelled the organ, pulsing softly 
into the opening notes of the Sanctus. Mr. 
Burke looked at Allie, who obediently opened 
his paling lips, but the sound that came from 
them could hardly be heard across the chancel. 
Again the organ repeated the opening notes, 
as Mr. Burke whispered : — “ How, Allie, try 
again.” But again the effort was ineffectual. 


THE DAEE DEYIL 


27 


Once more the chords sounded, and he was 
about signalling the choir to go on without 
the solo, when up from beside the altar rose a 
high, sweet voice — 

“ Holy— Holy— Holy ” 

Charlie’s eyes were still closed, but his brain 
had caught the familiar notes which belonged 
to his own solo. 

“ Gee ! Ain’t he got the nerve ! ” whispered 
the delighted choir boys, admiringly recog- 
nizing in this a fresh illustration of their dev- 
il’s daring. 

Again the thrice-repeated “ Holy ” swelled 
through the arched chancel — then the singer 
started into consciousness. 

What had he done ? “ Oh, gee ! Queered 
it after all ! ” 

He glanced at the Bishop — he was kneeling 
with his face in his hands ; was he angry ? 
He turned to see Mr. Burke, wh^nodded to 
him to go on, softly continuing tne organ ac- 
companiment. 

By this time the Dare-devil was thoroughly 
frightened. How could he sing without his 
music, and with every one’s eye on him ? But 


28 


JUST BOYS 


Bernie whispered : “ Go on, kid ; don’t you see 
you’re queering it a lot worse by not sing- 
ing ? ” So he threw back his head, and out 
poured the flood of melody, with only an oc- 
casional tremble of the clear voice. 

The solo ended, the choir took up the strain 
and repeated it in full chorus, culminating in a 
burst of triumph. Then, as the rolling har- 
monies died away, there rose once more the 
high, sweet notes from the little red cassock 
kneeling beside the altar — “Holy — Holy — 
Holy — Amen,” the last word dying away as 
the organ grew fainter and fainter to a close. 

As the Bishop was resting a moment after 
service in the vestry, the door was pushed 
open, and a mortified and badly shaken Dare- 
devil stole in. 

“ I didn’t mean to queer it. Bishop, honest I 
didn’t. I must have fell asleep ! I’ll git fined 
fer that ; but that ain’t what’s eatin’ me — it’s 
havin’ you think I queered it a purpose.” 

The choirmaster, coming in, was just in 
time to see a tearful little red figure taken up 
in the Bishop’s arms, and to hear the Bishop 
say: 


THE DAEE-DEVIL 


29 


“ Ho, my boy, I know you didn’t mean to 
‘ queer it,’ and Mr. Burke’s not going to fine 
you either, for here he is, and I’m going to ask 
him not to. And, Mr. Burke, I want Charlie 
to sing that Sanotus for me every time I come ; 
will you, Charlie ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir — thank you, sir — you bet I 
will, sir ! ” said the Dare-devil, throwing his 
arms around the Bishop’s neck and kissing 
him. “ Gee ! I’m awful glad you don’t think 
I queered it a purpose ! ” 


Ill 


GETTING EVEN 

“ ^ THAT was the name of the great 
Jewish Council?” asked Miss 
Chalmers, not very expectantly, 
it must be confessed. 

‘‘ That was the one where they had such a 
bully time camping out in booths and tents, 
wasn’t it ? ” ventured Charlie, hopefully. 

“ No, that’s Tabernacles — don’t you know ? ” 
corrected Allie Dugan, with a lofty superi- 
ority soon to fall crashing to earth before Miss 
Chalmers’ incisive : — 

“ And what was Tabernacles ? ” 

This question being received in dead silence, 
she went probingly on : — 

“ Don’t ^you know the difference between 
one of the great Jewish Feasts, and the great 
J ewish Council ? Come now, think a minute — 
well, then, turn to your written answers, and 
I’m sure you’ll find you have it right.” 

30 


GETTING EVEN 


31 


“ Sanhedrin 1 ” shouted the choir class as 
one boy. 

“ You see you simply wrote it down without 
using your minds at all, and I may as well 
take this opportunity to tell you that I am 
very much discouraged. [Blank looks sur- 
rounded her.] Here are the examinations 
coming on, and not one single one of you will 
come anywhere near grade, as usual. What 
makes me feel particularly badly is, that I 
have been talking with Miss Murray, of the 
Sunday-school across the street, and she 
tells me her boys are always up to grade — 
one of them, Jimmy Knight — I believe you 
know him — regularly gets one hundred per 
cent.” 

The choir class gave a sudden start and 
glanced about it, while a dark cloud settled 
down upon its countenance. 

“ And,” went on Miss Chalmers, “ I am so 
mortified that these boys are brighter than 
you are, but figures never lie [Miss Chalmers 
was young] and you know thirty per cent, is 
the highest average you ever get.” 

Continued and gloomy silence endured — no 


32 JUST BOYS 

one being able to deny the damaging but well- 
known fact. 

“ Another thing which troubles me is that 
Miss Murray must be a much better teacher 
than I am. I ought to be able to keep you up 
to the mark in spite of yourselves. So I am 
seriously thinking of asking the rector to let 
some one else take this class.” 

« Aw — Miss Chalmers — say — now ” 

“Yes, I’m afraid I’m not the right one for 
you. Of course if you can’t learn, you can’t, 
and I shall not expect you to do anything in 
these examinations, because they are too hard 
for you. It seems a pity that Jimmy Knight 
should be so much brighter; but then, as I 
said, he probably has a better teacher.” 

And the anguished cry of: — “Oh, Miss 

Chalmers, please ” fell unheeded, as the 

pretty white dress swept out of the choir 
room, leaving a train of dismayed and broken 
spirits behind it. 

“ Well, what d’ you think of that ? ” gasped 
Allie, the first to recover himself. 

“’K Jim Knight gits one hundred per 
cent., does he ? ” lowered Christie. 


GETTING EVEN 


33 


“’N Miss Chalmers isn’t as nice as Miss 
Murray, isn’t she ? ” contributed Willie Crosby, 
who — though now ranking among the altar 
boys — was still, by reason of his extremely 
tender years, with his old comrades in Sunday- 
school. 

The bitter irony of this stung Charlie into 
speech. 

“ Fierce I ” he bristled. “ Miss Murray hasn’t 
got pink cheeks ’n little curly curls round her 
forehead. But I tell you, fellers, girls are 
queer. My sister Meta, she gits that way 
sometimes, ’n talks as if everything’s busted 
’n nothing’s ever goin’ to come right again — 
but she gits over it. P’raps Miss Chalmers ’ll 
feel different to-morrow.” 

“ Gee ! She’s got to — we’re not goin’ to 
have another teacher,” said the class leader, 
firmly; ‘‘but I don’t know anything about 
girls — we’ve only got two at home, ’n they’re 
babies.” 

“We’ve got two, but they’re married, so 
they’re no good,” added Allie. 

“Well, I got seven, so I ought to know,” 
declared Charlie with finality. 


34 JUST BOYS 

“Anyway we ain’t goin’ to have another 
teacher.” 

A unanimous: “You bet we ain’t!” fol- 
lowed Christie’s decision. 

The experienced Dare-devil, with his seven 
elder sisters, had thrown a slight gleam of 
hope on the situation, but it was a very sober 
and uncertain group that seated itself on the 
bank to discuss the matter just as Mr. Tilson 
came around the corner blithely whistling : 

“ ‘ You’ll have to wait till my ship comes in — 

Yo.-ho, yo-ho, yo-ho ! ’ ” 

Mr. Tilson was young and buoyant by na- 
ture, and to-day he was feeling in particularly 
good spirits, owing to some encouraging com- 
ments on his sermon by the rector. So 
cheered and warmed was he by this much 
valued appreciation, that he was oblivious to 
his surroundings, and had almost run down 
the silent and dejected choir class stretched 
out on the grass in gloomy meditation, before 
he was aware of its presence. 

In fact even then he doubted his own eyes. 
Usually its whereabouts was perfectly evident 


GETTING EVEN 


35 


to any one possessed of ears, within a quarter 
mile of its vicinity. 

“ Your mother isn’t worse, is she, Jerome ? ” 
anxiously began the curate, casting about in 
his mind for some plausible solution of the 
phenomenon. 

“ No, sir, mamma’s better this morning — and 
she told me to be sure not to forget to thank 
you a lot for ” 

“ Oh, that’s all right, old chap,” interrupted 
the curate, reddening — “tell her I’ll be out 
again on Tuesday, will you?” — putting his 
arm around the lad, who was the only one 
present in ignorance of the sad truth that he 
would soon be without a mother. “ But what 
is the matter with you boys?” he went on, 
puzzled. 

At first, only a confused jumble of : — “ Miss 
Chalmers — Jim Knight — examinations — per 
cent. — another teacher — ” reached his ears, 
but little by little the dynamic facts came out, 
that their own Miss Chalmers, after taunting 
them with their inability to learn, and con- 
trasting them with their deadly enemy — 
greatly to that enemy’s advantage — had fur- 


36 


JUST BOYS 


ther lowered their self-esteem by declining to 
require anything of them in regard to the 
coming examinations, and had finally added 
the crowning injury of darkly threatening to 
leave them in the lurch, herself. 

Well now, that’s pretty bad, isn’t it ? But 
you fellows must brace up, and we’ll see what 
can be done about it. I don’t see what makes 
choir boys such young — imps, but I was one 
myself, so I ought to know.” 

“Gee! Were you ever a choir boy, Mr. 
Tilson?” 

“The worst ever, Willie,” cheerfully ad- 
mitted the curate, unabashed, “ and, as I said, 
I don’t know why, either.” 

“ I guess it’s because the music ’n all makes 
us feel kinder queer inside, ’n when we git out, 
we just have to fool ! ” suggested the Dare-devil. 

“Perhaps you’re right, Charlie,” returned 
Mr. Tilson, soberly. 

“ You can help us out some way, sure, can’t 
you, Mr. Tilson ? ” urged Christie. 

“Well, there is a way by which you could 
get even with Miss Chalmers, and at the same 
time make her very happy. It will mean a lot 



^ 0 . . 


'''''' 



“ We men know we can do anything we make up our minds to 


## 




GETTING EVEN 37 

of work, but we men know we can do any- 
thing we make up our mind to.” 

“ Sure, we can,” responded Willie Crosby, 
with conviction. 

“ What I would suggest is this : your course 
is only twelve lessons — now what’s the matter 
with your all taking hold and learning them ? 
Of course those boys over there aren’t any 
brighter than you are, and their lessons are no 
harder than ours, either. Suppose you all read 
up at home, and then come to my study every 
other night this week, and we’ll have a grand 
going over the whole course backwards and 
skipping ; then, whatever the examination ques- 
tions may be, you’ll be all fixed up to an- 
swer them. What do you say ? ” 

“ Gee ! That’s great, Mr. Tilson,” exclaimed 
the class leader, his ambitious spirit catching 
fire. 

‘‘ So it’s agreed, fellows, is it ? You are all 
to take hold now — no nonsense — and if we 
don’t give Miss Chalmers the surprise of her 
life, I’m mistaken.” 

“You bet we will!” was the unanimous 


response. 


38 


JUST BOYS 


“ But do you suppose she’ll shake us ? ” 
Charlie’s voice was tremulous. 

‘‘No, I don’t believe you could hire her to 
do it, and, anyway, the rector wouldn’t let 
her. But she’s discouraged, probably, and 
knowing what choir boys are I don’t blame her 
much ; do you ? ” 

“ She’s all right,” chorused her loyal charges, 
as the curate heartily grasped each hand, and 
went on his way briskly resuming his whistling, 
and leaving behind him a chastened, but much 
uplifted choir class. 

“ I do wish the Bishop were not coming on 
examination Sunday,” bemoaned Miss Chal- 
mers to the rector. 

“ Why, what’s the matter, my dear ? ” asked 
the kind old man. 

“ Oh, my boys are always such a disappoint- 
ment at such times ; they seem to learn like 
parrots — without any proper reactions at all — 
and I hate to have him see what an unprofit- 
able servant I am.” 

“ But, my dear girl, it’s largely his own fault 
if they don’t do well, and he knows it. How 


GETTING EVEN 


39 


can you expect to hold them up to grade when, 
on account of his saying they ought not to be 
made to come at all, you only keep them 
twenty minutes ? ” 

“ I know — but all the same I wish he were 
not coming, and I wish it were over.” 

And it was a very listless and half-hearted 
Miss Chalmers, who, with her flock, occupied 
the modest benches in the extreme rear of the 
room, to which, owing to its stimulating in- 
fluence on the other scholars, long experience 
had found it expedient to relegate the choir 
class on the occasions of its appearance in the 
main school. 

She glanced at her charges. Surely never 
before had they seemed all teeth. Each face 
was distended to an extent which even the 
most soul satisfying feat of mischief was not 
wont to evoke. The Bishop, the rector, Mr. 
Tilson, the other curates — even the teachers 
— were all broadly smiling. She, apparently, 
was the only one out of tune with the festive 
key. Her spirits sank, and she prepared for 
the customary mortification, as the Bishop rose 
to give the results of the written papers. 


40 


JUST BOYS 


“ I will commence as usual,” he said, “ with 
the highest grade of marks, and I am very glad 
to say, children, that you have done ’ far better 
this year than ever before. Kindly hand me 
that list, Mr. Tilson — let me see — ah, yes : 

“ Miss Chalmers^ Class 


Christopher McCourt - 100% 

Charles Henry Stolter - 100% 

Alson Jay Dugan - - 100% 

Jerome Wright Moran - 100% 

William Acker Crosby - 100%.” 


The dazed Miss Chalmers at first started and 
thought with a pang that this was only a heart- 
rending mistake. But, as name after name was 
read out, and as, one by one, her entire flock 
rose to its feet in response — the eyes of the 
whole room glued in stupefied amazement upon 
it — she turned from white to red and from 
red to white, and finally burst into tears, an act 
so unexpected and appalling as to take com- 
pletely aback even the Dare-devil with his vast 
experience of girls. For an instant it seemed 
that the supreme happiness of the triumphant 
moment was about to be entirely lost, but the 
Bishop came to the rescue : — 


GETTING EVEN 


41 


“ You have all heard, my dear children, of 
tears of joy ; now, I think you are seeing some 
of them. And I would suggest that the choir 
class (with whom I very decidedly want a few 
words presently) take their teacher into their 
own room, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised 
if she very soon found herself quite able to 
smile again.” 

“ Oh, boys ! ” cried Miss Chalmers, laughing 
and crying at once, as soon as the doors had 
closed behind them, “ what a perfectly darling 
surprise I If I didn’t know you’d all hate it, I’d 
just love to kiss every one of you.” 

“ Begin with me,” insinuated the Dare-devil, 
throwing his arms around her neck. “ I’m used 
to it.” 

“ ’N I don’t mind it a bit,” added the class 
leader, following his example. 

“ Nor I — nor I ! ” shouted the others, suiting 
the action to the word. 

“But how did you ever do it?” went on 
Miss Chalmers, emerging laughing and rosy 
from the engulfing arms. 

“ Oh, Mr. Tilson, he helped us.” 

“ He didn’t do much,” put in a deeper voice 


42 


JUST BOYS 


from the door ; he just set the ball rolling, 
and your own boys did the rest.” 

“ Say, Miss Chalmers, you won’t shake us, 
will you ? ” 

A breathless silence followed Allie’s voicing 
of the general anxiety, 

“ Never ! ” exclaimed Miss Chalmers, as the 
choir class, with shrieks of joy, rolled over 
and over itself, out onto the grass, by way of 
relieving its pent up feelings. 

“And,” she called after it, her cheeks 
pinker than ever, and the little curls, which 
had commended themselves to Charlie’s dis- 
criminating taste, blowing all about her pretty 
young forehead, “ I don’t think Jimmy 
Knight is half so bright as you are — and 
what’s more, I never did.” 




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IV 

A BATTLE ROYAL 


GLOOM which could be cut with a 



knife hovered over the choir class. 


^ Christie McCourt, its admired and 
versatile leader, had fallen from his high 
estate, and great was the consternation. The 
exciting cause of the trouble did not threaten 
such serious and far-reaching results, but 
Christie’s nature combined mischief with a 
depth of character beyond his fellows. 

For some time past the choirmaster had 
been fearing that the sweet, clear soprano 
notes were nearing the decline of their power, 
but he had said nothing to the lad himself ; so 
when, all at once, in the midst of the Magnif- 
icat, a sudden, hoarse croak brought to an 
abrupt conclusion his beautiful solo, mortifica- 
tion and surprise were equally mingled. For- 
tunately for the service, little Charlie Stolter, 
on the other side of the chancel, took up the 
strain at a nod from Mr. Burke, and Mary’s 


43 


44 


JUST BOYS 


lovely canticle soared aloft with only a mo- 
ment’s pause — so slight, that the congregation 
thought the two boys were singing antipho- 
nally, as they often did. But to Christie, the 
sound was gall and wormwood. 

“ For behold, from henceforth all generations 
shall call me blessed,” sang Charlie, in his 
melting tones, looking as he always did, like 
the golden-haired angel he was not. 

Now Christie and Charlie were not only the 
leaders in all kinds of mischief — and, inci- 
dentally, the two solo boys — but they were 
also the closest of friends. It was, therefore, 
with the most dumbfounded surprise that, af- 
ter service, the rest of the choir saw its leader 
deliberately walk up and strike the younger 
boy a blow so severe that he staggered and 
fell under it. The tears that sprang to the 
great blue eyes were not from pain alone — 
that Christie could treat him so hurt even 
more. And Christie, directly after, with 
blazing crimson cheeks and tight-set lips had 
rushed out of the choir room into the darkness, 
without a word. 

Such were the beginnings of the trouble. 


A BATTLE EOYAL 


45 


Charlie’s affectionate nature was only too 
ready to forgive and forget, and he would 
have gone a good deal more than half-way to 
meet his old comrade on the road to “ making 
up.” 

But Christie must have inherited with his 
black hair, his dark blue eyes, and his rich, 
vivid colouring, something of the Celtic nature 
to which they belonged — a stern and uncom- 
promising sense of justice, which absolutely 
prevented him from being forgiven. 

“I did it,” he repeated over and over 
again to Miss Chalmers to whom he had 
always presented a phase of boy disposition, 
requiring especial dealings. “ I did it — I hit 
Charlie — he hadn’t done a thing — Mr. 
Burke told him to sing when I broke down — 
but I got crazy all of a sudden, ’n I struck him. 
What if he does forgive me? That doesn’t 
make it any different. I did it, ’n sayin’ I’m 
sorry won’t undo it.” 

“ My dear boy, you are taking a very morbid 
view,” said Miss Chalmers, slowly; “ think how 
we all do things that are wrong all the time, 
and yet, if we are sorry ” 


46 


JUST BOYS 


“That’s all right — but Charlie ’n me’s dif- 
ferent.” 

“I really don’t know what to do about 
Christie,” Miss Chalmers reported to Mr. Til- 
son, the boys’ particular curate ; “ what can we 
say to make him see things differently ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; and the poor little chap has 
been having a lot to contend with at home, 
too — his mother married again, you know, and 
the stepfather doesn’t understand the boy, 
while the mother is absorbed by her two 
babies. There is every reason to account for 
Christie’s sudden fit of passion — goaded on — 
last straw — but the position that he won’t be 
forgiven is something new in my experience of 
boys. The rector can’t do anything with him, 
either. It’s most extraordinary.” 

It was on a warm morning in July that the 
Bishop, arriving by an early train — for he al- 
ways liked to make a long day of it at St. 
Michael’s — met Miss Chalmers, her pretty face 
wearing a sad and troubled look, quite unusual 
to it. 

“Come into the church, and tell me all 


A BATTLE EOYAL 


47 


about your boys,” said the Bishop, who be- 
lieved in being a real father to his flock, and 
who was beloved by the whole diocese, young 
and old. 

“ Oh, Bishop,” began poor Miss Chalmers, 
“ we’re so distressed about Christie McCourt,” 
and into the Bishop’s sympathizing ears poured 
the story. 

“ Can’t forgive himself — won’t be forgiven, 
eh? Well, I always liked that boy, and now 
I respect him. He’s the kind of stuff we want ! 
Let me have a talk with him ; do you think he 
will see me ? ” 

“ Oh, I know he will. Bishop — only ” 

“Just send him to me, my dear ; I’ll be in 
the vestr3? all the morning.” 

“Christie, the Bishop wants to see you — 
he’s in the church ; will you go ? ” asked Miss 
Chalmers, a trifle doubtfully, in spite of her 
assurance to the contrary, as she ran across 
the lad a few moments later. 

“ Sure I will ! ” returned Christie, with his 
usual promptness, his face brightening up, then 
suddenly clouding over. 

“ Go in, dear ; you’ll find him waiting for 


48 


JUST BOYS 


you,” and Miss Chalmers gave his hand a warm 
little squeeze, for this one of her charges — so 
full of mischief, so hard to manage — was the 
dearest of all. 

“ Come in, my boy,” welcomed the Bishop 
heartily ; I’m glad to see you. And what’s 
all this trouble between you and Charlie ? ” 

“ Ho trouble with him, sir ; I’m the one ; I 
hit him.” 

“ And you feel mean all through about it ; 
I know just how it is.” 

Christie’s dark blue eyes opened a little 
wider. 

“ Yes, I did pretty much the same sort of 
thing, when I was about your age, and I get 
hot to this day whenever I think of it. The 
other boy was smaller, too, and loved me. I 
was about as mean to him as I could be.” 

“ Gee I ” observed Christie, awestruck. 

“Yes, and I couldn’t forgive myself; he 
would have been only too glad to forgive me, 
but I wouldn’t let him. I had a feeling that I 
couldn’t undo what I had done, and that no 
amount of forgiveness would blot it out.”^ 

“ Why, that’s just how I feel I ” 


A BATTLE EOYAL 


49 


“Is it? I thought perhaps it might be. 
Well now, do you know, that boy fell ill, and 
he wanted to see me so much that I went, and 
what do you think he said ? ” 

“ What?” 

“ He said : ‘ Jimmy ’ — (“ Gee I ” thought Chris- 
tie, “called the Bishop Jimmy”) — ‘Jimmy, 
I’m awful sick, and it would make me feel bet- 
ter if you’d be friends again — what’s keeping 
you ? You’re the only one that’s remember- 
ing — I’ve forgotten it long ago. Please stay 
and help me get well.’ And some way things 
seemed to get straight in my mind. I was sel- 
fish, that’s what I was — if Tom wanted me 
and I wouldn’t let him have me, why wasn’t I 
being just as mean as I was in the first place, 
only in a different way ? ” 

“ What did you do, sir ? ” 

“ Why, I just let myself be forgiven — and I 
tell you, my son, I learned a lesson I can’t for- 
get. It’s a great deal easier for some natures 
to hold out — proud and hard — to the idea that 
they have done wrong, and they will suffer the 
consequences — ^you and I are that kind, I ex- 
pect. But how about other people? Wo 


60 


JUST BOYS 


make them suffer, too, and what do you call 
that?” 

know, Bishop, but — — ” 

“ There’s another ^ but.’ I often wish there 
were no such word. Turn things around for 
a moment ; if Charlie had struck you in a sud- 
den fit of anger, wouldn’t you forgive him ? ” 

“ Sure I would, sir, — but ” 

‘‘ Take care of those ‘ buts.’ And wouldn’t 
you think it very mean of him if he wouldn’t 
make up — no matter what ground he might 
put it on ? You just stop and think. It 
doesn’t make any difference what you do to 
yourself — I mean whether you forgive your- 
self or not — but you have no right to go on 
being mean to some one else. Do you under- 
stand me, my boy ? ” 

“ I think so, sir, but ” 

“ Another thing — I shall speak to the rector 
and Mr. Tilson about it — I want you to be 
the choir crucifier until you are able to sing 
again.” 

“ Oh, Bishop, do you thinJc ” 

“JSTo, I don’t think — I know — and I want 
you to begin being crucifier this very night.” 


A BATTLE EOYAL 


51 


The editorial sanctum of the Parish Echo 
was in the throes of its weekly (?) issue. The 
career of the Echo was a somewhat checkered 
and meteoric one. Simple and interesting had 
it been to go about soliciting — and collecting 
on the spot — subscriptions to the paper from 
the parishioners, all of whom naturally felt a 
loyalty towards the enterprise. But, after the 
first two or three numbers, sustained mainly 
by contributions from Mr. Tilson, Miss Chal- 
mers, and some of the big brothers, the effort 
to fill the editorial pages became stringent and 
irksome. Christie had been its mainstay, and 
since his defection, the struggles of literary 
genius were more severe than ever. 

“What are we going to do for a leader, 
this week?” asked Allie, editor-in-chief, and 
general manager. 

“ I’m setting up one now that my grandma 
wrote,” returned Charlie, head printer, “but 
she’s got so many sentences beginning with 
’ that I’ve used up all our ‘ B ’ caps now.” 

“ Boys should be quiet. Boys should be re- 
spectful. Boys should be obedient.” Such 
were the stirring and epoch-making senti- 


52 JUST BOYS 

ments with which Charlie’s grandma’s edi- 
torial bristled. 

“ I’ll have to begin the rest with a dash : 
— oys should not interrupt,’ ” went on Charlie, 
dispiritedly. 

“What else is there?” asked Jerome, the 
city editor. 

“ Ain’t you got some stuff ? ” 

“ Yes, some, but I couldn’t git much. Here’s 
about all : — 

“ ‘ Polly Dugan is moulting this week.’ 

“ ‘ Willie Crosby has got a new sister.’ 

“ ‘ Georgie Childs has gone to Hew York.’ ” 

“Well, string that out in long primer, ’n 
double lead it,” commanded the manager. 

“ How about ads, Billy ? ” 

“ Why, Mr. Davenport says it don’t pay him 
to keep his in,” reported the advertising agent, 
Billy Wells, “ because we don’t come out every 
week. I told him we came out as often as we 
had enough to fill up. But he says that’s no 
way to run a paper, specially one that’s all 
paid up subscriptions.” 

“ I wish we could chuck it, but Mr. Tilson 


A BATTLE EOYAL 63 

says we got the money, ’n we gotter keep our 
bargain.” 

“Gee! It’s awful tough work!” groaned 
the editor-in-chief. 

“ Here, Carl, run out ’n see if you can’t pick 
up something on the street.” And Carl Ellis, 
the one official reporter, sped obediently away. 

Moments rushed on — the time for “ going to 
press ” was inconveniently near, and only one 
page filled. 

“ If we only had Christie to help us I He’d 
have thought of half a dozen things by this 
time,” growled Allie. 

A cloud fell on Charlie’s bright face : — 

“Well, he ain’t the only feller in the bunch. 
I guess we can git on without him, if he don’t 
wan ter come,” he returned, trying to maintain 
an air of easy indifference under his repeated 
rebuffs. 

“ Mr. Merrick says if we don’t stop puttin’ 
in every number that Mike Childs has a new 
collar, he shall begin to think we ain’t got 
brains enough to make up any news items,” 
complained the advertising manager. 

“ Well, let him try ’n run a paper, then ; he’d 


64 


JUST BOYS 


find it tough, I guess.” The editor’s temper 
was variable. 

“ I gotter have those forms right away,” an- 
nounced the head printer ; “ I can’t git home in 
time for supper now, ’n my mother says if I 
don’t stop bein’ late, she’ll stop my bein’ 
printer.” This was indeed a threatened blow, 
Charlie’s nimble fingers rendering his services 
invaluable to the typesetting force. His words 
carried weight. 

“ Well, we’ll have to set up all the ads in 
bigger type, ’n fill in with something about the 
weather,” concluded Allie. 

“ Hello, fellers,” exclaimed a brisk voice 
from the door, paper all full up ? ” 

The manager, the printer, the city editor, 
the reporter (who had just come in from a 
fruitless quest), the advertising agent — all 
jumped, and stood ready for emergencies. 
The speaker was Christie, looking as calm and 
undisturbed as though there had been no time 
of travail in the choir class. 

“ I thought maybe you’d have room for a 
little short thing I wrote about some trout I 
caught the other day — they was whoppers.” 


A BATTLE EOYAL 


65 


** Set it up, quick, Charlie,” commanded the 
editor-in-chief. 

“ How’s the paper gittin’ on ? ” inquired 
the newcomer, politely. 

“ Fierce ! ” admitted the truthful Allie. 
Conversation languished, no one but Christie 
being entirely at his ease. 

In fact Charlie, whether owing to high speed 
pressure, or to agitation, set up half the letters 
upside down, and the exciting account of the 
fishing trip was somewhat marred in conse- 
quence. Still, as the editor said, any one 
could guess what it meant, ’n if they couldn’t^ 
they could hold it the other way ’round. 

At last the “ forms ” were made up, and all 
hands, including the “ special writer,” turned 
to for the printing. It was a very inky and 
exhausted staff when the “ edition ” was finally 
complete and folded, ready for distribution. 

It was not, however, primarily to assist at 
the issue of the ^^cho, which had brought the 
class leader into the editorial rooms. His 
purposes were definite, and his methods were 
his own. 

The Bishop’s sympathetic insight having 


56 


JUST BOYS 


pricked the bubble of his pride, and stripped of 
its dignity his supposed impregnable position, 
he had promptly abandoned it with his accus- 
tomed decision of character. The healing of 
the breach with Charlie, and the resumption of 
his relations with the choir class followed 
naturally as a logical necessity, to which he 
now addressed himself with corresponding 
despatch and artful suggestion. 

“Say, fellers,” he observed, “I got old 
Jinny outside, ’n what’s the matter with us all 
goin’ up ’n callin’ on the Bishop ? We can 
pick up the rest as we go along.” 

“ Bully ! ” responded the editorial staff in 
unison, entirely restored to its ease by this off- 
hand manner. It had uncomfortably been ex- 
pecting to have to say something — or to 
“make up” in some tangible and painfully 
embarrassing effort. 

But its leader was more than equal to the 
carrying off of any situation, however awk- 
ward — even one where he might be supposed 
to feel, to say the least, constrained. 

“ All right,” he returned cheerfully, and in 
his usual briskness of tone, entirely un- 


A BATTLE EOYAL 


57 


hampered by conventional restrictions, “ pile 
in, fellers — Charlie ’n me’ll ride on her back — 

won’t we, Charlie ? — ^just ketch hold of me 

Git up. Jinny 1 ” 

And the sight which met the eyes of the 
Bishop, sitting on the rectory porch, sur- 
rounded by Miss Chalmers, Mr. Tilson, the 
rector, and a choice selection of the faithful, 
was a station wagon, with small boys over- 
flowing its sides, and hanging on to its end, 
and drawn by an old white horse, on whose 
back, his arms entwined about the younger 
lad, sat, triumphant and beaming, the class 
leader, once more restored to his own, with 
Charlie’s blue eyes again smiling up into his, 
and the two tongues chattering so fast, that 
only a confused mingling of happy voices con- 
veyed to the delighted watchers on the porch 
the joyful assurance that a battle had been 
fought — and won. 


y 

THE COMPELLING OF JIMMY 

“ O into the highways and hedges and 

1 •jr compel them to come in,” had been 
the Bishop’s text, and the eager and 
burning words which followed it had taken 
root in the inflammable imaginations of the 
choir class, whose close- attention and blame- 
less conduct generally, on the occasions of its 
Chief Pastor’s Visitations of St. Michael’s, 
would have aroused dark fears of its speedy 
and untimely end in the breasts of those un- 
familiar with it in its normal state. 

Christie" McCourt, its versatile leader, and 
Charlie Stolter, its admired “ Dare-devil ” 
(proud title, bestowed for preeminence in all 
feats of mischief) were taking a short cut to 
the church the following Sunday, through a 
shady lane bordered with high box hedges, 
when they suddenly descried, seated on a 
stone, and punching aimless holes in the moss, 
58 


THE COMPELLING OF JIMMY 59 


their deadly enemy of the Sunday-school across 
the way, one Jimmy Knight. 

The young St. Michaels were instantly on 
their defense, but the enemy seemed strangely 
lacking in spirit. He showed no sign of im- 
pending battle. 

“PVaps he’s sick,” whispered the tender- 
hearted Dare-devil, and the two approached in 
wary silence. Still no menace from the 
enemy. By this time, ordinarily, the welkin 
would have rung with the shouts of war. 

Even Christie began to feel anxious. “ Any- 
thing the matter ? ” he ventured, tentatively. 

Could it be possible that a sniff, long and 
loud, was proceeding from under the enemy’s 
cap brim ? 

Blank consternation now stalked abroad. 

“Why, what’s eatin’ you, Jim?” faltered 
Charlie, drawing nearer. 

“ Fired ! ” 

“ From Sunday-school ? ” 

“ Yes — because another feller said I hooked 
his pennies, ’n I didn’t.” 

The young St. Michaels were not proof 
against this demand upon their chivalry. All 


60 


JUST BOYS 


their latent sympathy with the down-trodden 
and oppressed sprang into instant vitality. 
Feuds were forgotten. 

“ Sure you didn’t — we know that. But ain’t 
you goin’ there any more ? ” 

‘‘You bet I ain’t !” 

A wonderful light of clear inward vision 
was dawning upon the faces before him. They 
looked at each other — a common inspiration 
gleaming from their eyes. 

“’N even a hedge!'*’' said Charlie, in an 
awed whisper. 

“We goiter do it ! ” responded Christie, with 
equal fervour. 

“Say, Jim,” he began, tactfully, “if you 
ain’t goin’ anywheres else, what’s the matter 
with your cornin’ with us ? ” 

“ Don’t want any more old Sunday-schools 
— had enough,” glowered the misanthrope. 

“Well, you gotter come anyway, whether 
you want to or not,” declared the ardent and 
less diplomatic Dare-devil ; “ we’re goin’ to 
compel you.” 

“ Compel ! What d’yer mean ? ” 

“ ‘ Compel — to constrain by force,’ ” quoted 


THE COMPELLING OP JIMMY 61 


Christie. “ I looked it up in the dictionary. 
It means we’ve gotter make you come along 
with us — the Bishop said so. Now, will you 
come without fightin’, or have we got to lick 
you first ? ” 

“I ain’t goin’ to no Sunday-school,” per- 
sisted the victim of unjust suspicion, his 
wrongs rankling afresh. 

“ Yes you are — ketch hold of him, Charlie, 
’n I’ll take his other arm. Come on, now.” 

“ I won’t ! Here, you let me alone ! ” 

The enemy began to look more natural. 

‘‘ You’re cornin’ if we have to soak you one 
— I don’t know but we oughter, anyway — the 
Bishop didn’t say whether compelling went ’s 
far’s that — but I guess we needn’t, unless you 
kick too hard.” 

Kick was precisely the term for the enemy’s 
actions at the moment. Eight and left flew 
his agile legs, with devastating effect upon the 
missionaries. 

“ I’ll sure time to soak him just a little one,” 
deprecated Christie, suiting the action to the 
word ; ^^now will you come along ? ” 

“ Gee ! What a lump ! ” exclaimed the 


62 


JUST BOYS 


Dare-devil, aghast, and, indeed, a convincing 
testimony to the strength of the hand of ec- 
clesiastical discipline was already beginning 
to appear on the forehead of the reluctant con- 
vert. 

“ You come on, ’n have it out ! I kin lick 
the two of you with one hand,” sneered the 
enemy, now completely himself again. 

‘‘We can’t — we gotter go to Sunday-school 
— but, aw say, Jim, you come along with us 
now — it’s awful nice,” insinuated the resource- 
ful Christie, suddenly changing his tactics. 

“ ’N it’s only twenty minutes, ’n Miss Chal- 
mers, she’s a dandy teacher ! ” augmented the 
Dare-devil, taking his cue from his leader. 

The “ dandy teacher,” looking up from her 
books a little later, was somewhat startled at 
the picture of a small, red-headed, freckle- 
faced figure, which she at once recognized for 
the enemy, securely supported on either side 
by her own two charges. 

“We compelled him to come in,” exulted 
Charlie, glowing with the satisfaction of the 
good and faithful servant, and confidently 



“ Ketch hold of him, Charlie, ’n I'll take his other arm — 
Come on now ! ” 




THE COMPELLING OF JIMMY 63 


expecting a “well done.” “He’s got fired 
from his own Sunday-school.” 

“ Oh, good-morning, Jimmy,” returned Miss 
Chalmers, tactfully ignoring the dark flush 
which followed this humiliating revelation. 
“ I’m very glad to see you. Don’t you w(mt 
to come in ? ” 

“ Sure he don’t ! ” broke in Christie ; “ we 
had to compel him, like the Bishop said — look 
at that lump ! ” 

Miss Chalmers was not naturally obtuse, but 
she always found it necessary before starting 
for Sunday-school to get out her complete set 
of wits and sharpen them up, ready for instant 
action, of whatever nature the anticipated 
emergency might demand. 

Jumping, therefore, at once to the right con- 
nection between the group before her, and the 
eloquent sermon of the Bishop, and suspending 
sentence to a more convenient season, she 
released the overzealous missionaries from 
further spiritual effort, and took command of 
the “ compelling ” situation herself. 

“ Well, Jimmy, do you know, I really wish 
you would come in for a few moments anyway. 


64 


JUST BOYS 


These crayons are all mixed up, and if you 
wouldn't mind straightening out the different 
colours for me, it would be a great help. And, 
boys, you know it’s manners when we have 
visitors, to offer refreshments, so I’ll ask 
Jerome to pass this maple sugar before we be- 
gin — take that nice light piece, Jimmy — I’m 
so glad you happened in this particular morn- 
ing, because we haven’t had a Choral Cele- 
bration to-day, and the boys are all fresh for 
the lesson. Who’s going to draw the pic- 
ture?” 

“ Let me — let me ! ” responded the choir 
class, eagerly — drawing being popular. 

“ I’ll take Allie this time, and the rest can 
tell him if he leaves out anything. Will you 
hold the crayons, Jimmy ? Go on, Allie.” 

The visitor began to relax to the extent first, 
of partially forgetting himself — next, of taking 
a faint interest in his surroundings. What 
was Allie trying to do ? He selected a blue 
crayon and daubed some waving blue lines, 
across the top of the board. At the bottom, 
he put a dozen irregular brownish bundles, 
surrounded by streaks of green, and with 


THE COMPELLING OF JIMMY 65 


capital J’s sprinkled indiscriminately among 
them. In the middle distance, he drew two 
long wobbling strokes, reaching to the top 
of the board, joined by cross-bars. 

Then, casting a self-satisfied glance over his 
handiwork, he sat down, and looked about for 
appreciation. 

“ You forgot the angels,” prompted the choir 
class in unison. 

“ Oh, so I did,” returned Allie, unabashed, 
adding to the cross-bars a number of white 
semicircles, meeting in pairs, like eyebrows, 
and surmounting them with large A’s. 

“ What does it mean ? ” ventured the visitor, 
unable to repress his curiosity. 

“Explain it, Charlie.” 

“ Why, it’s Jacob’s Dream. Those brown 
stones are his pillow, ’n the angels goin’ up ’n 
down the ladder are what he saw.” 

“ That a ladder ! ” exclaimed the visitor, na- 
tive honesty triumphing over acquired polite- 
ness. “ Why, it couldn’t hold up a fly ! ’N 
what’s it restin’ against ? ” 

“ A heavy cloud, I guess,” said Allie, hastily 
daubing in an extra one. 


66 


JUST BOYS 


“ I rather think you can draw, Jimmy,” in- 
terrupted the observing Miss Chalmers, on the 
lookout for the point of contact ; “ suppose you 
put in the ladder.” 

Now, entirely forgetful of his self-conscious- 
ness, the young visitor eagerly seized a crayon, 
and, in a trice, a ladder that “could be 
climbed up ” had arisen in accurate perspective 
from among the brown bundles, while with a 
few masterly strokes, the white eyebrows de- 
pending from its rungs had been transformed 
into drooping, feathered wings. 

“ Gee ! ” chorused the choir class, in stunned 
admiration. 

“ Why, Jimmy, you’re a real artist ! That 
makes a different thing of it ; you must have an 
uncommonly true eye. Suppose, now, you draw 
the whole picture, while Christie tells the story.” 

“ All right, I’d just as soon,” murmured the 
artist, tasting the sweets of success, and en- 
deavouring to conceal his pride. 

“ Jacob, he ” began Christie. 

“ Just a moment,” interposed Miss Chalmers. 
“ Carl, your pocket’s moving — what have you 
got in it ? ” 


THE COMPELLING OP JIMMY 67 

“Mice,” returned Carl Ellis, daringly. He 
was one of the younger boys, whose exceptional 
powers of mimicry had raised him high in the 
estimation of the choir class, quick to ac- 
knowledge talent. But Carl had not as yet 
quite assimilated the lesson — fairly well di- 
gested by his fellows — that there is a time for 
all things. 

To Jimmy, the incident promised the most 
interesting results. The audacity of it ap- 
pealed to his nature, and the certainty that, 
being a girl. Miss Chalmers’ next move would 
be to jump on a chair and scream, lent an 
element of humour, peculiarly attractive to 
the masculine mind. What was his amaze- 
ment, therefore, when that calm and self-pos- 
sessed young woman dismissed the subject (in- 
cidentally taking the wind completely out of 
the intending mischief-maker’s sails) with a 
quiet : — 

“Put the little things in that empty bird 
cage outside the door till after the lesson, then 
we would all like to watch them. Go on, 
Christie, you’ve only five minutes.” 

And before the visitor had time to do any 


68 JUST BOYS 

sort of justice to himself as an artist, the lesson 
was at an end. 

‘‘Now we’ll sing — ‘Jerusalem the golden’ 
— you know that, Jimmy — and then we must 
go. Christie and Charlie may wait.” 

“What a sweet voice you have,” went on 
Miss Chalmers, as she shook hands with her 
guest at the door ; “ you don’t know how much 
I’ve enjoyed your visit. You must try and 
forgive Christie and Charlie for making you 
come. They didn’t quite understand the 
Bishop’s sermon — I’m going to explain it to 
them now so they won’t forget it ! I’m so 
sorry we couldn’t have seen more of your 
drawing. Next Sunday we have Daniel in 
the Lions’ Den — I’m afraid the boys won’t be 
able to make much of Daniel — and their 
animals always look like saw-horses with tails 
stuck on. Qood-\ijQ. Thank you for coming.” 

The visitor went slowly out — hesitated — 
flushed scarlet — and turned back — the passion 
of emulation flaming in his eyes. 

“ If — if you’d like to have me — I’d just as 
soon come and help next Sunday as not,” said 
he. 


YI 

THE NEW RECRUIT 


“/^AY, fellers, that cross on top of the 
church would make a bully target — 
betcher I can hit it first time!” 
boasted Jimmy Knight, whose mistaken father 
had recently presented him with a shotgun, 
the envy of his old-time enemies. 

To his amazement, this alluring proposition 
was received in blank silence, and with looks 
of frozen horror by the usually responsive 
choir class. 

“W-w-why,” he stammered, “ wh-what’s the 
matter ? ” 

Christie, the class leader, possessed with the 
courage of his convictions, and never at all 
backward in expressing himself, voiced the 
general sentiment : — 

“ Why, that’s our flag,” he explained firmly, 
‘‘ ’n no one but traitors are so low down as to 
fire on their flag.” 

“ 0-oh — well,” retorted the new recruit, try- 
69 


70 


JUST BOYS 


ing to cover up his embarrassment with an 
assumption of easy indifference, “ let’s fire at 
Mr. Merrick’s weather-vane, then — that’s more 
fun, anyway.” 

The choir class having no ecclesiastical 
scruples regarding weather-vanes, they all 
hurried across the neighbouring gardens, and 
turned their attention to the fine copy of a 
famous trotter, named for the great revolu- 
tionary patriot, Ethan Allen, which Mr. Mer- 
rick, whose misfortune it was to live near St. 
Michael’s, had recently added to the tower of 
his stable, and of which he was very proud. 

Bang! Around spun Ethan Allen, as a 
bullet from the shotgun went through his tail. 

“Pretty good shot, wasn’t it?” exulted 
Jimmy. 

“ Bully ! Let me try,” pleaded Christie, 
awed into meekness by the astounding prowess 
of his late rival. 

But his aim went wide of the mark, and no 
exciting gyrations followed. Jimmy was gen- 
erous, and each of his new comrades was al- 
lowed his turn at the gun, but their lack of 
success was so marring to the interest of the 


THE NEW EECRUIT 


71 


occasion, that the owner was urged to resume 
his treasure and to go on providing amusement 
for the party. Not in vain had been his big 
brother’s coaching. Jimmy was an excellent 
shot, and soon poor Ethan Allen was riddled 
full of holes, and so confused in his mind that 
he had no idea which way the wind was blow- 
ing, or where he ought to point. 

“ Go on — keep it up — that’s a dandy one ! ” 
shrieked the delighted choir class, dancing 
about in its glee. 

“Well — what won’t you young devils be up 
to next? Worst set in town I But I’ve 
caught you red-handed this time, and you’ll 
pay up, too. That vane cost me fifteen dol- 
lars.” 

A harsh, unfeeling voice broke in upon their 
revelry. It was the voice of Mr. Merrick, 
and it sounded not only angry, but in dead 
earnest. 

Consternation replaced guileless merriment, 
and the detected culprits turned to each other 
in mute consultation. 

“ Come now — who’s at the bottom of this ? 
Whose gun is it ? ” 


72 


JUST BOYS 


If Mr. Merrick had been any judge of boys, 
he would have known the real criminal at 
once by his panic-stricken looks. But, not 
being gifted in that direction, and having had 
some experience of the choir class as a neigh- 
bour, he pitched on the ones upon whom he 
had usually found it safe to lay the responsibil- 
ity of all pranks. 

“ Here you, Chris McCourt, and Charlie 
Stolter — I’ll teach you to spoil my vane. If 
that fifteen dollars isn’t paid by to-morrow, 
I’ll have you arrested. That’s all. Scat ! ” 
Like a flock of (black) sheep, fled the choir 
class ignominiously to the shelter of its own 
churchyard, where it threw itself down on the 
bank for a council of war. 

Say, fellers,” began the new recruit, “ it was 
awful white of you not to tell on me — but 
how’m I ever goin’ to git that fifteen ? ” 

“ You git?” returned the class leader, 
superbly, ‘‘ how’s the whole bunch of us goin’ 
to git it? We’re all in it, ’n of course we 
wouldn’t tell on you — we ain’t sneaks — see ? ” 
“ But it’s my gun, ’n beside I did all the hit- 
ting,” persisted Jimmy, with pardonable pride. 



How’re we ever going to raise that fifteen dollars? 





THE NEW EECEUIT 73 

which even yawning prison bars could not 
down. 

“ But we all tried to hit it, ’n that’s just as 
bad, Mr. Tilson would say,” argued Allie; 
“ guess we’ll have to tell him about it.” 

“ Who’s Mr. Tilson ? ” 

“ Why, he’s our curate — the one we all go 
to about things.” 

“ He’s awful good,” put in the Dare-devil ; 
“ he knows just what a feller means without 
his sayin’ it.” 

“ Gee ! he does, ’n he’s done all the things 
we have, too,” contributed the class leader. 

“ Sure, he was a choir boy himself, ’n worse 
’n we are, he says^'^ added Willie Crosby, in- 
credulously. 

“ He goes off walkin’ ’n swimmin’ with us, 
too, ’n he’s substitute on our nine,” climaxed 
Jerome Moran. 

“How d’you mean — substitute?” Jimmy’s 
eyes were getting bigger and bigger. 

“ Why, he can play any position if any of 
the fellers gives out, ’n he can pitch three 
curves.” 

“’N we always have one of our nine sick 


74 


JUST BOYS 


when we play the altar boys,” finished Billy 
Wells, ingenuously. 

The new recruit was taking in rather more 
fresh ideas than he could assimilate, and the 
appearance of the popular curate was a wel- 
come interruption. 

“Say, Mr. Tilson,” began the ever ready 
class leader, “ we’re in trouble.” 

“What’s the matter now?” returned Mr. 
Tilson, resignedly. “ Miss Chalmers been 
‘ shaking ’ you again ? ” 

“ WeVe shot up Mr. Merrick’s Ethan Allen,” 
went on Christie, too much in earnest for pleas- 
antry, “ ’n if we don’t pay fifteen dollars by 
to-morrow, he’ll have Charlie ’n me arrested. 
I wonder why he hit on us,” he added, with 
an innocent look which did not deceive the 
experienced curate. 

“ You young rascal ! But did you do it ? ” 

“N’o, sir — but we was in it.” 

“Well, who did — no, never mind,” he inter- 
rupted himself, hastily, “ of course you couldn’t 
tell — and, anyway, I know every one of you 
was jumping around, wishing he could do 
it.” 


THE NEW EECEUIT 


75 


The choir class hung its head at this home 
thrust. 

“ But what’ll we do^ Mr. Tilson ? ” faltered 
the Dare-devil. “ I ain’t got but seventy-five 
cents.” 

“ I’ll have to think it over. I’m going to 
my study now for an hour, and I’ll tell you 
later on what I decide. Of course every one 
of you must take hold and help pay.” 

“ Sure,” returned the choir class, as the cu- 
rate turned to leave. 

“ And of course, too,” he added, “ you know 
whoever really did do it will feel mean till he 
owns up.” 

An embarrassed silence followed his de- 
parture. No one looked at Jimmy. 

“ Wh-what does he mean ? ” asked the true 
culprit. 

For the first time in his experience of him, 
his old enemy, Christie, seemed at a loss for 
words. 

“Well,” he finally advised, “I guess if I 
was you, I’d go to his study ’n tell him all 
about it.” 

“ But he’ll fire me sure if I tell him.” 


76 


JUST BOYS 


“ No, he won’t — not if you own up,” reas- 
sured the Dare-devil ; we’ve done lots worse 
things than that — but you feel awful mean if 
you don’t tell.” 

An emphatic murmur of confirmation rose 
from the reminiscent choir class. 

‘‘ Go on in, Jim,” urged Allie, “ ’n git it 
over — he’s awful nice — ’n then we can git to 
work plannin’ how we’re goin’ to raise the 
money.” 

“ Oh, that you, Jimmy ? ” called out a brisk, 
cheerful voice to a small, red-headed, white 
and freckle-faced figure, which seemed endeav- 
ouring to shrink through the floor. “Come 
in, old chap; you’re just in time to tell me 
about these flies. What do you think of 
them ? I hear you’re a great fisherman. Do 
you know whether there are any good trout 
streams out Wickopee way?” 

“ Ob, yes, sir, I know some bul— some fine 
ones, ’n those flies are dandy ! ” 

“ Well, that’s great now. I was thinking of 
taking a day off next Saturday with the choir 
boys, fishing, and I wonder if you couldn’t 


THE NEW EECEXHT 


77 


show us a new place. We would get an early 
start and be gone all day — can you, do you 
think?” 

“Gee! I mean, yes, sir — only ” The 

flush which had overspread the white and freck- 
led countenance died away, as, with a pang, 
the culprit recalled his mission to the study. 

“ Oh, Mr. Tilson ” he began, huskily. 

“ And are you fond of other sports ? ” went 
on the curate, artfully ; “ good shot, perhaps ? 
Better than Christie and the rest ? ” 

“ You "bet I am ! Chris, he can’t hit (my~ 
thing! ” 

“ Oh ! Well, you know part of a soldier’s 
business is to be a good marksman. We want 
our boys to be good at everything — games 
and sports and athletics — and even lessons! 
[Jimmy tried to smile politely.] I have been 
thinking of asking the rector to let me start 
an archery club — then the little fellows could 
be in it, and we could have some great matches. 
Could you help me about this, do you think ? ” 

Poor Jimmy ! The more this smiling, free 
and easy young man drew these enticing pic- 
tures, the more he wanted to stay in a Sunday- 


78 


JUST BOYS 


school which offered such a wonderfully con- 
genial field for his peculiar talents, and the 
less he wanted to “ tell ” and “ be fired.” 

But Jimmy came of good stock, and his 
courage was a match for Christie’s own. 
Shutting his eyes, and taking the fatal plunge 
at one leap, his trembling lips faltered ; — 

“ Mr. Tilson, I did it.” 

“Oh, did you?” returned the curate, qui- 
etly ; “ well now, that’s too bad. What made 
you think of it ? ” 

A terrible wave of recollection submerged 
the unfortunate new recruit, as he now saw 
himself swept away beyond rescue, but, with 
a desperate impulse to drive all the nails in 
his coffin at once and have it over, he stam- 
mered : — 

“ I was goin’ to shoot up the cross on the 
church, but the fellers wouldn’t let me, ’n 
Christie said it was their flag.” 

A gleam of gratification shone for an in- 
stant on the curate’s face, as he said : — 

“ Christie is a pretty good soldier, but he 
didn’t object at all to ruining Mr. Merrick’s 
vane, did he ? ” 


THE NEW RECEUIT 


79 


“ N-no — sir, I didn’t hear him, but he might 
have — I guess I wanted to do it all right.” 

Half an hour later a red-haired, freckled, 
but no longer white-faced Jimmy burst into 
the council of war. 

“Say, fellers, Mr. Tilson, he’s a dandy, ’n 
I’m goin’ right over to Mr. Merrick, ’n ask 
him to give me a week to pay up in, ’n he 
thinks he knows a way to raise the money.” 

“ If you go, we all go,” announced the class 
leader, with finality ; “ we’re all in on this — 
Mr. Tilson said so.” 

“Sure we are!” shouted the loyal choir 
class. 

“Give you a week’s time, eh?” exclaimed 
Mr. Merrick, “ you young scamps ! And you 
won’t tell who did it ? I guess not! ” ^ 

“ I did it,” up spoke Jimmy, pale again, but 
determined ; “ but I’ll pay you in a week.” 

It was out — and the choir class stood breath- 
less, awaiting its sentence. 

To its amazement, the hard, iron face re- 
laxed, the muscles around the mouth twitched, 
the stern eyes twinkled. 


80 


JUST BOYS 


“ Oh, you did it, did you ? Well, I ought to 
have you arrested, but so long as you’ve 
owned up, and so long as it wasn’t those two 
imps, I guess I’ll have to let you off this time.” 

But Mr. Merrick reckoned without his choir 
class. Its honour was touched. 

“ No, sir ! ” exclaimed its leader, ‘‘ we was 
all in it, ’n we spoiled Ethan Allen, ’n we’re 
goin’ to pay that fifteen dollars if it takes all 
summer ! ” 



What’s Jim Knight doing over here? 



YII 


A DEBT OF HONOUR 

AY, what’s Jim Knight doing over 
here ? ” 



The speaker was Georgie Childs, 
just back from six weeks in Kew York, and his 
curiosity was pardonable, since when he left, 
the choir class and Jimmy had been deadly 
enemies. 

“ Oh, he’s one of now — Christie ’n Charlie 
brought him in,” explained several eager voices, 
while admiring and envious glances were cast 
on the two missionaries. The objects of envy 
looked at each other somewhat sheepishly. 
Kot altogether satisfactory had been Miss 
Chalmers’ point of view in regard to their zeal. 

“ He got fired from his own Sunday-school, 
but Mr. Tilson went over and saw his clergy- 
man, ’n now he’s here,” continued the explana- 
tion. 

(For good and sufficient reason, the explana- 
tion omitted any detailed account of this deci- 


81 


82 


JUST BOYS 


sive interview, which had concluded with : — 
“ Take him, my dear fellow, you’re welcome, I 
make you a present of him,” — from Jimmy’s 
clergyman, who was young and sportive and, 
— “ Well, whatever he is, he can’t match mine,” 
— from Mr. Tilson, equally young and equally 
sportive.) 

“ ’IT we gotter pay fifteen dollars because he 
shot up Mr. Merrick’s Ethan Allen vane — 
(but we was all in it),” — went on the recital — 
“ ’n we don’t know how we’re goin’ to raise the 
money.” 

‘‘ Get up a minstrel show,” advised Georgie, 
fresh from metropolitan successes. “ I went to 
a dandy one that St. Xantippe’s Trade School 
had.” 

“ Could we do it ? ” 

“ Easy. They don’t have any one blacked 
up now but the end men.” 

“ I speak to be end man,” piped the choir 
class in unison. 

“ They only have two, but the rest sit around 
and do stunts just the same. I’d pick Jim for 
one end ’n me for the other. Christie’d better 
be the middle man that says what’s cornin’. 


A DEBT OF HONODB 


83 


We’d have to have some singing, ’n Allie could 
do that violin solo the rector’s always making 
him play in the offertory.” Georgie had the 
instinct of a true stage manager. 

“We’ll have to ask Mr. Tilson,” warned 
the experienced Allie. 

“ All right then, let’s do it now. I saw him 
walking up Terrace Street — we can catch him 
if we hurry.” 

And accordingly Mr. Tilson, decorously pay- 
ing his usual afternoon round of visits, sud- 
denly found himself the centre of a swarming 
mass of small boys, which precipitated itself 
upon him like an avalanche. 

“ Minstrel show — black up — fifteen dollars,” 
were at first the only words he caught, but 
gradually the excited tongues grew more 
coherent, and he was able to gather a reason- 
ably clear idea of the project. 

“ Why yes, I don’t see any objection to it,” 
he finally announced ; “ but what have you got 
for your programme ? ” 

“ Oh, Georgie’s just seen a show they had in 
a big parish in New York, ’n he says he can 
remember enough to tell us.” 


84 


JUST BOYS 


“ But can you get it up by yourselves, do 
you think ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, we’d rather. Georgie’s 
auntie’ll help us.” 

All right then — go ahead,” and the busy 
curate went briskly on his way, congratulating 
himself that Georgie had selected such an ex- 
cellent source from which to draw his inspiration. 

For several weeks the choir class was myste- 
riously exclusive. All its spare minutes were 
spent in rehearsing under Georgie’s able direc- 
tion. 

At the outset, indeed, disaster threatened 
the entire enterprise in the seemingly insuper- 
able obstacle of no one being willing to per- 
form unless he could be end man, and it was 
only by fine diplomacy and the strategic prop- 
osition that every one should “ black up,” that 
a pacifying compromise was effected. But, 
this difficulty once surmounted, the stage 
manager had no further trouble. 

"Oh, Mr. Tilson,” called out Charlie, one 
day after Sunday-school, “ how do you begin 
your letters to the Bishop ? ” 


A DEBT OP HONOUR 


85 


“‘My dear Bishop/” returned the curate, 
absently, hurrying by, on a sick call. 

“We sure want him,” declared Christie; 
“ let’s do it right now.” 

And the result of much consideration and 
painstaking effort reached its destination the 
following day. 

“ Our dear Bishop : ” (it read) — 

“We want you to come to our show. 
We shot up Mr. Merrick’s weather-vane, and 
we’re going to have the show to pay for it. 
So we send you these few lines to invite you 
to come. It’s going to be next Tuesday night. 

“ Your loving friends, 

“ The Choir Class. 

“ P. S. We want you awful bad, so please, 
dear Bishop, do come.” 

“ Ah, Mr. Judson,” observed the Bishop, 
looking up from his mail, “ kindly cancel that 
appointment for next Tuesday. I find I am 
called in another direction that evening.” 

At last the eventful night arrived. All the 
tickets had been sold and the large room was 
crowded. In the centre, in front of the stage, 
stood an armchair for the Bishop, who, sur- 


86 


JUST BOYS 


rounded by the rector and curates, was hold- 
ing an informal reception before the perform- 
ance. 

‘‘ Of course I shouldn’t think of taking the 
little chaps’ money,” Mr. Merrick was saying, 
“ but it shows their grit to go ahead in this 
way.” 

“ Of course you will take it,” put in Mr. Til- 
son; “it would upset all my teaching if you 
didn’t.” 

“Indeed, yes, Mr. Merrick,” added the 
Bishop, “ the boys must be taught to pay their 
debts of honour.” 

“ Besides, their self-respect would be deeply 
injured if you refused,” concluded the curate. 

Meantime, behind the scenes wild confusion 
reigned. Georgie’s auntie, her hands dipped 
in black, sticky stuff, stood patiently rubbing 
them over the faces and throats of the artists, 
trying to cover as much of the surface as their 
wriggling owners would permit. The ensem- 
ble was perhaps not strictly speaking harmo- 
nious, no two ears being the same hue and the 
widest latitude prevailing as to noses. But a 
pleasing variety was effected by coal black 


A DEBT OF HONOUE 


87 


cheeks and light chocolate coloured features, 
or vice versa, and, in any case, as Georgie 
philosophically observed, if they weren’t all 
black, they certainly were distinctly not 
white. 

Tremendous excitement, almost to despera- 
tion, was obtaining in the choir room, where 
Howard, the tall crucifer of the acolytes, whose 
well-known histrionic talents had, by special 
entreaty, been pressed into the service, was 
futilely struggling with the complicated street 
attire in which as Miss Cloy he was to capti- 
vate the spectators. 

Almost equal in intensity were the heroic 
efforts of Christie, the Interlocutor, to keep the 
long points of his high collar from getting into 
his eyes, and his whiskers from parting com- 
pany altogether with his chin. A tall beaver 
hat, a long coat and heavy-rimmed horn spec- 
tacles completed this imposing make up. 

In a separate room the satin glories of the 
two “hired” costumes — one vivid green, the 
other scarlet — were being strenuously adjusted 
to the rigid angles of the favoured end men, 
Jimmy and Georgie. Knee-breeches and 


88 


JUST BOYS 


dress coats, ruffles, long silk stockings and 
white gloves were among the accessories of 
these creations, and so dazzling was the effect 
that the performance threatened to come to an 
end before it had commenced, owing to the 
piercing jealousy of the rest of the cast, to 
whom slimness of exchequer permitted only 
“homemade ” habiliments. 

Even Christie, who was just now experiencing 
the pangs of first and unrequited love for 
Charlie’s eldest sister, a pretty young woman 
of about the same age as Miss Chalmers, felt 
a cold chill in the region of his heart. For 
would not Meta, being a girl, and therefore 
susceptible to fripperies, fall a victim to such 
alluring raiment ? 

But the pride of acting finally dominated all 
lesser emotions, and by the time Georgie’s 
auntie had carefully blackened out the white 
channels left by sundry rivulets of tears, all 
was in readiness for the curtain. 


A DEBT OF HOEODE 


89 


St* /IDicbael's (Tboir Class 

parish Ibouse 

Tuesday Evening, Aug. loth 

IProgrammc 

DARKTOWN MINSTREL BAND 

INTERLOCUTOR 

Mr. Christopher McCourt 

End Men 

Claude ----- George Childs 

Sambo - - - . . James Knight 

Funmakers 

Miss Cloy - - . . Howard Townsend 

Ginger . - - - . Jerome Moran 

Mr. Snow - - - - Alson Jay Dugan 

Zeke - . - . . Charles Stolter 

Reuben ----- William Wells 

Songs 

1. Opening Chorus, My Dream of the U. S. A., 

Entire Company 

2. ~ Solo - - I Wish I had a Girl, Mr. George Childs 

3. Solo Violin - - Melodic, Ruben stein, Mr. Alson Dugan 

i. o • Tv/r tr- 1- r\x. j- X, Mr. Charles Stolter 

4. Duet, Swing Me Higher Obadiah, I Mr. William Wells 

5. Closing Chorus, Much Obliged to You, Entire Company 

Second Part 

Grand Vaudeville Entertainment, 

By the Entire Company. 

Printing Press of 
« The Parish EchoP 
Orders respectfully 
solicited. 


90 


JUST BOYS 


The entire printing staff of the Parish Echo 
had spent itself on the production of two dozen 
programmes which were obligingly passed 
around until the audience had a fairly good 
idea of what was before them, and a pleased 
murmur of expectation arose as Mr. Burke, the 
choirmaster, came forward and, taking his 
seat at the piano, struck up the strains of a 
lively march to w^hich the curtain slowly and 
with many jerks arose. 

A gasp of admiration dissolved into “ ohs ” 
and “ ahs ” mingled with vociferous hand clap- 
ping, for the stage revealed the entire com- 
pany — at least as many of it as might be 
squeezed into the front row. In the rear, be- 
tween elbows and shoulders could be descried 
a bevy of bobbing heads belonging to the 
chorus, whose voices entitled them to that 
honour, but for whom the limitations of the 
stage precluded visibility. 

Considerable ingenuity was required in tak- 
ing seats without tipping over into the audi- 
ence, but, this feat once accomplished and the 
performers having conquered the temptation to 
smile at their friends over the footlights, the 


A DEBT OP HONOUE 


91 


entertainment swung into full brilliancy with 
the burning question : — 

“ Say, Mr. Johnsing, kin yoh tell me what 
am de difference between a egg and a ele- 
phant ? ” — and the appreciative listeners settled 
down to eager anticipation. 

The opening chorus went off with much 
spirit, and Claude “ wished he had a girl ” 
with such convincing ardour that Miss Cloy 
felt encouraged to offer herself in that capacity, 
and was only persuaded to return to her place 
beside Sambo after the most marked and 
humiliating rebuffs. 

When quiet had once more been restored 
the Interlocutor rose to announce : — 

“ The next number, ladies and gentlemen, 
will be a violin solo by Mr. Snow.” 

His cheeks flaming a rich crimson through 
the thin coating of black, Allie came forward, 
while Mr. Burke sounded the key. The 
rector’s eyes brightened as the young player’s 
bow struck into the solo he always loved to 
hear him give in church. 

Tremendous applause followed, and Mr. 
Snow bowed again and again, looking appeal- 


92 


JUST BOYS 


iDgly at Christie, until that leader holding up his 
hand for silence, declared firmly that : — We 
can’t give any encores because we don’t know 
any ” — which conclusive utterance produced 
the desired effect and the entertainment was al- 
lowed to proceed. 

The “ conversation ” consisted principally of 
impromptu dialogues between the two end men, 
who, from diligent consultation of the joke 
columns in the papers, supplemented by 
Georgie’s recollections of the St. Xantippe 
programme, had constructed the ‘‘ text ” and 
were, in consequence, perfectly able to rein- 
force each and any part, or to fill them all if 
occasion demanded ; a fortunate circumstance, 
for excitement drove the majority of their 
lines from the young heads beneath the woolly 
wigs. Ginger and Keuben required constant 
prompting by their comrades, while an agoniz- 
ing attack of stage fright rendered Zeke en- 
tirely speechless when addressed by the Inter- 
locutor, whose ensuing hoarse whisper : “You 
take it, Jim,” was plainly audible to the far- 
thest corner of the room. 

However, trifiing blemishes of this sort 


A DEBT OF HONOUE 


93 


were more than atoned for by the singing, and 
Obadiah had to be repeatedly swung higher 
and higher, with appropriate gestures — in 
which Miss Cloy towered aloft over the rest of 
the cast like a young fir tree — amid tumultu- 
ous enthusiasm. 

Indeed, this attractive maiden br^ged over 
many an awkward pause between the Inter- 
locutor’s : “Well, Ginger, who wuz dat sho’ 
’nuff peach yoh all was glidin’ up Main Street 
with last night,” and the hastily substituted 
reply of Claude or Sambo, by her artless 
flirtations with admirers in the audience. 
Singing was not one of Howard’s strong 
points, but in pantomime he excelled, and a 
good-natured desire to help out the little 
fellows inspired him to scintillating feats 
which the spectators seemingly appreciated to 
the full. 

The closing chorus equalled the opening one 
in sprightliness and interest, and the delighted 
performers hurried off the stage to have as 
much of the burnt cork as could be induced to 
come off, removed from such of the faces as 
were to reappear white in the Grand Yaude- 


94 


JUST BOYS 


ville Entertainment which was to be the cream 
of the mental feast. 

“ What’s this ? What’s this ? Sign it ? 
Sign what ? ” exclaimed Mr. Merrick in some 
natural surprise, as a deputation from behind 
the scenes pressed a sealed envelope upon him. 

“ It’s a receipt — please take the money — ’n 
we’re awful sorry,” faltered the deputation. 

Mr. Merrick, thus urged, broke the seal, and 
took out three five dollar bills, a ten cent piece, 
and a folded paper which read : 

“ Keceived from the choir class, fifteen dol- 
lars and ten cents ($15.10), in full payment, with 
interest, for spoiling Ethan Allen.” 

“We didn’t know how to fix up the interest, 
but we thought ten cents was about right, ’n 
Howard wrote the receipt.” 

Mr. Merrick glanced at the Bishop, whose 
face was evidently struggling not to twitch — 
then at the curate, who stood, perfectly grave, 
by his chair. 

“ If you’ll sign here, Mr. Merrick,” said he, 
“ I know the boys will feel greatly relieved — 
and I don’t think you will ever be troubled by 


A DEBT OP HOKOXJE 


95 


them again — at least not in that way I Will 
he, boys ? ” 

“ITo, sir — thank you, sir — but Ethan did 
look awful funny ! ” 

And the deputation flew back to impart the 
glad tidings of release from debt to its fellow 
conspirators, before the curtain went up on the 
second part. 

The stage was empty, but from one side 
came the rollicking notes of a jig, and Allie, in 
white knickerbockers, with a scarlet sash about 
his waist, entered with his violin. On went 
the jig, and in burst a small, black-faced flgure 
in red, its nimble feet dancing a clog. It was 
Georgie, and his proficiency in this direction 
had long been the envy of his fellows. As he 
paused for breath, on from the other side 
rushed another small black face in short red 
skirts. The agility of Jimmy’s legs was al- 
ready familiar to certain of his sometime ene- 
mies, but on this occasion they outdid them- 
selves, and the two scarlet figures danced and 
whirled and spun, while Allie played faster 
and faster, till all rushed off breathless, amid 
thunders of applause. 


96 


JUST BOYS 


Next came Carl Ellis, whose powers of 
mimicry had won for him respect and distinc- 
tion. At his command a cat fought and 
scratched and spit — a dog growled and yelped 
and snarled — until at last a battle royal raged 
between the two. 

Long and loud was the clapping, and Carl 
was recalled again and again. 

Following him came a shy little maid, in a 
pink dress and sunbonnet matching her cheeks, 
under which the dark blue eyes of Christie 
smiled mischievously. Advancing to the front 
of the stage, the little maid kissed her hand 
and curtsied, as she prepared to recite the 
touching history of “ Little Willie,” who : — 

“ had a purple monkey, 

Climbing on a yellow stick, 

And when he sucked the paint all off 
It made him very sick.” 

Christie’s voice shook with emotion at the 
last verse : — 

“Oh, no more he’ll shoot his sister 
With his little wooden gun. 

No more he’ll pull the pussy’s tail 
To make her howl for fun. 


A DEBT OF HONOUR 


97 


The pussy’s tail now stands out straight, 
The gun is laid aside, 

The monkey doesn’t jump around. 

Since Little Willie died.” 


This affecting poem met with tumultuous 
applause, and Christie was recalled again and 
again. 

The next number was a very pretty juggling 
act with Indian clubs by Jerome Moran and 
Billy Wells, whose assiduous devotion to the 
gymnasium of late now explained itself. Back 
and forth flew the gayly coloured missiles — 
red, green and gold — with an accuracy which 
reflected great credit on the young athletes. 
Only hard work could have produced the prac- 
ticed eye — the trained muscles — which gave 
the effect of such careless grace and ease. 

The audience showed a generous apprecia- 
tion of the feats, and the lads bowed repeatedly 
in gratifled response. 

Next came an India rubber ball — or what, 
from its agility, would seem to be one. It 
bounded up and down, and spun back and 
forth in the most astounding manner. True, 
it wore scarlet knickers above a pair of legs 


98 


JUST BOYS 


of the same vivid hue, and it was surmounted 
by an honest, freckled face and fiery hair, 
bearing a strong resemblance to Jimmy. It 
walked on its hands, turned back somersaults, 
and wound up by a succession of cart-wheels 
around and around the stage, till the admiring 
spectators grew dizzy. 

Great enthusiasm greeted this exhibition, 
and deep was the envy of every small boy in 
the audience. Jimmy, endeavouring to con- 
ceal his pride, received his well earned applause 
with a smiling countenance, and did not alto- 
gether regret, as he should have done, the in- 
discretion which had led him to use Mr. Mer- 
rick’s weather-vane as a target. 

He was finally allowed to depart, and in 
stole a small Highland lad and lassie, sing- 
ing 

“ Gin a body meet a body 
Cornin’ through the rye.” 

It was Willie Crosby and Charlie and they 
acted out the familiar words with much spirit. 
Yery coy was Willie, the pretty little lassie, as 
she coquetted and danced about the laddie. 
An animated Highland Fling ended this del- 


A DEBT OF HONOUE 


99 


icate little performance in thunders of applause, 
as the young dancers, kissing their hands, ran 
lightly off the stage. 

After a moment’s pause, Mr. Burke struck a 
chord, and in filed the entire company, headed 
by Christie, still in his pink dress and sunbon- 
net, bearing a large silk flag which almost 
enveloped him in its long folds. Taking his 
place in the centre, with the others ranged 
around him, he waved the flag aloft, and out 
burst the sweet high voices into “ The Star 
Spangled Banner.” 

The audience instantly rose to its feet, and, 
the Bishop setting the example, all united their 
own voices to the boyish ones on the stage in 
the national anthem. 

At its close down came the curtain, at first 
in silence ; then the tension relaxed in tumultu- 
ous shouts — for the flag — for the singers — for 
the performance generally. 

Meantime, the well pleased choir class, hav- 
ing counted up its earnings, had already gone 
into a committee of the whole. 

“ Whafll we do with it ? We got thirty 
dollars left,” said Billy Wells, the treasurer. 


100 


JUST BOYS 


A flash of inspiration shot through the class 
leader ; — 

“ Give it to the Bishop ! ” 

“ Bully ! ” shouted the others ; “ let’s do it 
right now.” 

And the Bishop’s informal reception was in- 
terrupted by a procession of small and excited 
persons who formed themselves in line before 
him, bursting with eagerness. 

“Please, sir,” began Christie, breathlessly, 
“ we want you to take this — it’s thirty dollars 
— and build a church with it.” 

“Yes, sir — we all do,” heartily chorused 
the beaming choir class. 

The Bishop smiled, then grew serious. 

“ My boys,” he said, “ it does me good to 
have you think of this. And now I’ll tell you 
what I would like to do. I don’t really need 
any thirty dollar churches just now — but I do 
need more choir classes exactly like this one. So 
if you are sure you want me to take the money 
you have earned, I know of a poor little parish 
up in the mountains where they haven’t any 
choir boys, and they could start a class at once 
if they had this.” 



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A DEBT OP HONOUR 


101 


“ Oh, yes, sir — we do, sir.” 

“Very well then — and thank you heartily, 
every one of you — and we’ll call it ‘ St. 
Michael’s Choir Class ’ ! ” And he shook each 
eager little hand with a warm pressure. 

“ Ain’t he awful nice ? ” exclaimed Jimmy,' 
the new recruit, as the young performers sped 
back to their quarters. 

“You bet he is — he’s our Bishop ! ” shouted 
the emotional choir class. 

The passion of loyalty suddenly awoke in 
the breast of the once deadly enemy : — 

“ He’s mine^ too ! ” he shouted back, with an 
ardour that matched their own. 


YIII 

MORE TROUBLE 


H alt I who goes there ? ” 

“ A friend.’’ 

‘‘Advance, friend, and give the 


countersign.” 

“Tadpoles and pollywogs.” 

“ Shin up.” 

At the last command a rope descended from 
a yawning hole in the darkness overhead, by 
means of which the impatient aspirant wrig- 
gled himself up to the delectable regions 
above. 

The place was Mr. Daskins’ barn chamber ; 
the occasion, a regular meeting of the “ Fifteen 
Jolly Gnashers,” entrance to and egress from 
whose sanctum was effected by means of the 
rope only, a process all the more alluring be- 
cause the staircase stood in full view, and 
nothing prevented its use but the unwritten 
law. 

This mysterious and popular secret society 
102 


MOEE TEOUBLE 


103 


was open to choir boys alone. The altar boys 
were rigidly excluded, to their outward deri- 
sion, but inward envious desire. Such was 
their feeling on the subject, that they had 
several times laid a petition before that high 
court of appeals, Mr. Tilson, praying for its 
dispersion, on the ground of its being a hot- 
bed for the inception and propagation of all 
darkly mischievous plots. Mr. Tilson, how- 
ever, had thus far declined to exercise his pre- 
rogative, finding it expedient to utilize the 
blind spot in his eye, until the pranks should 
become too glaringly prominent. 

After an unusually brisk session, at which 
the well-known fertility of the class leader, 
Christie McCourt, had outdone itself in entic- 
ing propositions for future action, the highly 
pleased “Jolly Gnashers” slid down from 
their perch, and prepared to work off their 
exuberant spirits in a harmless game of hare 
and hounds. 

The afternoon was cloudy and energetic 
running was in accord with every one’s feel- 
ings. Cheeks grew rosy and voices high and 
shrill. At last, after a hard and breathless 


104 


JUST BOYS 


chase, the hares took refuge in a friendly 
stable, whose door stood invitingly ajar as they 
rushed, hard pressed, around a corner. Into it 
they tore, slamming and bolting the door be- 
hind them, and throwing themselves panting 
and laughing upon a mound of hay. Up came 
the hounds in full cry, and catching the scent 
from a stray cap, dropped in the hasty scram- 
ble, traced the hares to their temporary refuge. 
With bangs and shouts they besieged the sanc- 
tuary. 

Oh, look, fellers ! ” whispered Charlie, the 
leader of the hares, pointing to a barrel of apples. 

Words were unnecessary. More than sug- 
gestive were the fine, mellow, soft and 
“ squshy ” missiles — ammunition right to their 
hand. Each hare, arming himself forthwith 
with as many as his pocket could contain, the 
besieged prepared to become the besiegers. 

“ What makes them so quiet ? ” whispered 
Allie, apprehensively. 

“ They’re foxy, ’n Christie’s got some game 
up his sleeve,” returned Charlie. “ Now then, 
when I say three, let’s throw open the door 
and let fly.” 


MOEE TEOUBLE 


105 


“ Gee ! It’s bully 1 ” responded the chuck- 
ling band. 

“ One — two — three I ” 

Wide open flew the gates of the citadel, fol- 
lowed simultaneously by a deadly fire of pro- 
jectiles. “ Bang — bang ! ” shouted the de- 
lighted hares, rushing out from under cover to 
exult in the enemy’s downfall. 

Horror upon horror I Ho trace of the 
hounds could be seen, but in the immediate 
foreground stood Dr. March, the dignified and 
elderly Congregational minister, plastered from 
head to foot with juicy and overripe apples ! 

Too late the agonized hares remembered 
that it was Dr. March’s stable in which they 
had taken refuge. This was no time for parley 
— only complete and ignominious rout re- 
mained. Turning tail, therefore, like frightened 
squirrels scurried the demoralized hares back 
to their burrow in the club house of the “ Jolly 
Gnashers.” Without pausing to make use of 
their chosen mode of entrance, they tore des- 
perately up the usually despised staircase, and 
descended, screaming and choking, upon the 
heartless and derisive hounds, who had pre- 


106 


JUST BOYS 


ceded them in discreet anticipation of the ef- 
fect of Dr. March’s discovery of the trespass- 
ing upon his carefully ordered stable. 

“ Gee 1 You are in for it now ! ” they 
shouted consolingly, in delighted glee, when 
they heard the fascinating details. 

‘‘ So’re you ! ” retorted the quaking hares. 
“ He’ll report us all, ’n we’ll all have to make 
good.” 

“We might just as well go right down to 
Mr. Tilson first as last,” counselled the saga- 
cious Allie ; “ he’ll get us out of it somehow. 
But it’s fierce havin’ it Dr. March we fired 
into.” 

“ Ain’t it ? ” chorused the others. 

“ Yes, rector,” Mr. Tilson was saying, “ I 
really do think the boys are doing better — 
they seem to be getting a little more feeling of 
responsibility. Here it is fully three weeks 
now since they have done anything startling.” 

“ That was the time, I believe, that Christie 
and Charlie, after leading the others into Mr. 
Betting’s watermelon patch, slipped out in the 
darkness and attacked them with whips and 


MOEE TEOUBLE 


107 


sticks and made them think Mr. Betting had 
caught them, wasn’t it ? ” returned the rector, 
laughing. 

“Yes — three weeks since then, dji&two weeks 
since they stole the ice-cream I had ordered 
for the deaf mutes’ social,” supplemented the 
Kev. Mr. Bathbone. 

“ And one week since they drank up all Mrs. 
Broughton’s raspberry shrub, just bottled — 
without any water ! ” added his colleague, Mr. 
Townsend. “Wonderful feeling of responsi- 
bility, Tilson ! ” 

“ Well, you fellows can jeer,” retorted the 
boys’ own curate, “ but I repeat they are boil- 
ing down, and I know the rector will back me 
up, won’t you, sir ? ” 

“ They’re a pretty fair set of little chaps,” re- 
turned the kind old rector, “ and you do mighty 
well with them, too, my boy,” giving the red- 
dening curate a hearty slap on the back. 

“ Unless my eyes deceive me, here come the 
trouble hunters now,” put in the stiff-necked 
and unconvinced Mr. Bathbone. 

“ Well, boys, what’s the matter ? ” asked the 
rector ; “ you don’t look happy.” 


108 


JUST BOYS 


“ Please, sir, we want to see Mr. Tilson.” 

‘‘ I thought so I ” commented his fellow 
curates. 

“ Well, what’s the matter now ? ” began Mr. 
Tilson, somewhat half-heartedly. 

“ Oh, Mr. Tilson — it’s something awful this 
time ! ” 

“ Suppose you take the boys into your study, 
Tilson,” interposed the rector ; “ they can talk 
better there.” 

“ Yery well, sir. Come on, boys. Now, out 
with it.” 

“ It’s about Dr. March.” 

The curate’s face lengthened. 

“ What can you have been doing to him f ” 
he exclaimed. 

“ Why, we didn’t know he was there, ’n we 

slammed open the door, ’n ” 

He was where ? What door ? ” 

“ His stable door.” 

“ You in his stable — his new stable that he 
keeps like a drawing-room I ” 

‘‘We didn’t think, sir — [“ You never do ! ” 
groaned the curate] ’n we ran in there, ’n then 
we took some apples to fire at the fellers.” 


MOEE TEOUBLE 


109 


“ Apples would hurt them I ” 

Well, they wasn’t 'cery hard — they was 
pretty soft — they’d been ripe a good while ” 

“Oh!” exclaimed the curate, on whom a 
dark cloud was beginning to descend as the 
potentialities of the event developed. 

“ ’N we thought the fellers was outside,” 
went on the faltering tale, “ ’n when we banged 
open the door, we let fly, ’n it wasn’t the fel- 
lers at all — it was ” 

“Dr. March?” asked the curate, aghast, 
overwhelmed with a vision of the inevitable 
after effects. 

“ Yes, sir — ’n what’ll we do, sir ?” 

“ Well, I think you deserve a good lesson. 
You are growing more heedless all the time,” 
returned the justly exasperated curate, ignor- 
ing his recent championship, “ and you think 
all you have to do when you get into a scrape, 
is to come to me to pull you out of it. Now 
this time ” 

“ Oh — say — Mr. Tilson — you ain’t goin’ to 
shake us, are you ? ” 

Charlie’s eyes were very blue and appeal- 
ing, but Mr. Tilson hardened his heart. 


110 


JUST BOYS 


“ Yes, this time I’m going to make you work 
it out for yourselves. The only bright thing I 
can see is, that you didn’t know it was Dr. 
March. But you did know you had no busi- 
ness in his stable. The rector will feel ter- 
ribly mortified on account of Dr. March being 
another clergyman, and not used to boys, 
either. Yes, I’m afraid it looks pretty dark for 
you. You’d better be thinking what j^ou’re 
going to do about it!” And their own 
curate, unrelenting and merciless, for the first 
time turned a cold shoulder on their troubles 
and left them to their own bitter reflections. 

“ Let’s go up to the club and talk it over,” 
advised Allie, faint-heartedly. 

And up the commonplace staircase again 
filed the ghosts of the once Jolly Gnashers — 
too broken in spirit for the exhilarating rope 
“ shinning.” 

“ Gee ! Ain’t it fierce ? ” exclaimed Georgie 
Childs. 

“ Don’t you think he’ll ever take us back ? ” 
faltered Jerome Moran. 

“We better git busy ’n do what he tells us,” 
declared the practical Christie. 


MOEE TEOUBLE 


111 


“ What ca/n we do ? ” Willie Crosby’s voice 
presaged tears. 

“ Do you suppose if we wrote Dr. March a 
letter or something it would be any good ? ” 
ventured Billy Wells, as a forlorn hope. 

“ Get up a petition,” suggested the resource- 
ful Christie. 

“ ’N all sign it,” added Georgie, beginning 
to scent dramatic possibilities. 

“ How’ll we ever draw it up ? ” asked the 
prudent Jimmy Knight. 

“ Howard ’ll do it for us, I guess,” returned 
Allie, with inspiration. 

“ Bully ! Let’s go ask him now,” and the 
depressed choir class, sustained by this gleam 
of hope, took sufficient heart of grace to tumble 
down its favourite rope, on its way to immediate 
action. 

“ Say, Howard, can you draw up a peti- 
tion ? ” began Allie, tentatively, as the fifteen 
drew breath at the Townsend’s door. 

“ Guess so — what kind ? ” replied the tall 
crucifer, not unfamiliar with the epic of the 
choir class, and always ready to help out the 
little fellows. 


112 


JUST BOYS 


Well, it wants to say good ’n big that we 
didn’t mean to hit Dr. March with rotten 
apples ” 

Great Scott ! Do you mean to say that^s 
what you’ve done ! ” 

The spirits of the unfortunate choir class 
once more sank below the surface. With the 
ecclesiastical point of view they were familiar, 
but when the secular eye proclaimed itself of 
the same way of seeing, the realization of their 
crime came home to them in all its enormity. 

Oh, Howard, help us out — do ! ” entreated 
the completely subjugated J oily Gnashers. 

‘‘ Well, let’s see — you tell me what to put 
down. I’ll begin it this way : — 

“ ‘ To the Kev. G. L. March, D. D.’ That 
D. D. looks well, too,” interpolated the writer.) 
‘We, St. Michael’s choir class ’ — (How you go 
on) — ‘ Are very sorry we hit you with those 
apples ’ (Christie) ‘ And we ought not to have 
gone in your stable at all ’ (Jerome) ‘ But we 
did — and we won’t again ’ (Allie) ‘ And please 
sir, the rector didn’t know it — and he’s feeling 
very much ashamed — and please don’t blame 
him ’ (Charlie) ‘ And Mr. Tilson, he said we 



“ Oh, Howard, help us out, do ! ” 





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MORE TROUBLE 


113 


must get on without him, because we forgot 
so many times before, so please excuse mis- 
takes ’ (Georgie). 

‘‘ Isn’t that about enough ? ” suggested How- 
ard. “Suppose, now, you all sign it, beginning 
with Christie, then we’ll send it to him by 
mail.” And down went the fifteen names in 
sprawling letters. 

Dignified and precise Dr. March had suffered 
a severe shock to his feelings, but his heart was 
younger than his head, and he had not for- 
gotten what it was to be a boy, and when the 
petition reached him the following morning, he 
read it with a zest and appreciation which 
would have raised his drooping and anxious 
correspondents to the zenith of buoyant hope, 
had they dreamed of such an impossibility. 

They were, however, still among the ranks 
of the submerged, when, filing sadly and si- 
lently out of choir practice that night, they 
were greeted by Mr. Tilson, his countenance 
once more turned towards them sympathet- 
ically. 

“ You fellows must have hit on a pretty 


114 


JUST BOYS 


good apology to Dr. March, he began, his 
eyes smiling as of old ; “ he has written the 
rector a letter, and there is something in it 
for you.” 

For us ! Gee ! ” screamed the choir class, 
in excited anticipation, coming suddenly out 
of its gloom ; “ what does it say ? ” 

“ I’ll read it : — 


“ ‘ To the Rector of St. MichaeVs Church : 

“‘My dear Brother: — 

“ ‘ I want to congratulate you on hav- 
ing a manly set of boys. I would like to know 
them — ^and will you kindly ask them to come 
up some time to the parsonage, when they can 
make it convenient ? Perhaps they will sing 
for me, and I can promise them another kind 
of apples in return for those they gave me ! 

“ ‘Yours faithfully, 

“ ‘ G. L. March.’ ” 


For an instant the choir class stood, bereft 
of speech. 

“Well, what do you say — can you make it 
convenient, some time ? ” asked Mr. Tilson, 
laughing. 

A shriek of sudden joy arose from the 
throats of his charges. 


MOEE TEOUBLE 


115 


“ Go ! You bet we’ll go ! Ain’t he a dandy ? 
We’ll make it convenient right now.” 

And with shouts which pierced the skies, 
the choir class, once more restored to its for- 
mer estate, tore like a whirlwind out of its 
churchyard, and along the leafy street, until it 
disappeared within the parsonage gate. 


IX 


THE GREAT GAME 

« AY, Mr. Tilson, tell us about some of 
those times when you were on the 
team!” pleaded the choir class, after 
an exciting practice game with the altar boys, 
preparatory to the great match of the season 
with the St. Gabriels, up the river. 

“ Let me see,” returned the popular curate, 
throwing himself down on the turf, while the 
rival nines perched themselves around him in 
their grass-stained uniforms, “ did I ever tell 
you about that catch I made when I was play- 
ing centre ? ” 

“ No, sir, tell us now,” urged his flatteringly 
attentive audience. 

“Well, it was at the Polo Grounds. Har- 
vard won the toss, and had had the advantage 
right along so far. She made two runs in the 
second inning, and the best we could do was 
to get men on bases, without being able to 
116 


THE GEEAT GAME 


117 


bring them in. Frank Wilmer— he’s rector 
up at St. Gabriel’s now, you know — was our 
pitcher, and he whispered to me to look out 
for the Harvard third baseman, who was a 
terrific hitter. I had my eyes open, you may 
be sure, but nothing came my way. It ran 
along to the last inning with no change — 
Harvard still two to our nothing. The grand 
stand was packed with old grads who had 
been up for their class reunions, and they were 
shouting away to beat the band. 

“ In the ninth, the first batter up for us was 
Billy Matthews, and the roar could have been 
heard down at the Battery, when he rapped out 
a three bagger. Then I followed with a sacri- 
fice, which brought Billy home, and, as they 
fumbled it, got me to first. You should have 
seen the old grads falling on each other’s necks 
and whooping it up for Yale. 

“ That was all very well so far as it went, 
but I was only on first, and the next man 
wasn’t much of a hitter. The only thing for 
me to do, of course, was to steal second, but 
the Harvards were on to me, and their pitcher 
got that ball down to first every time I put 


118 


JUST BOYS 


my foot off the base. Just then, some one set 
up a special screech from the Harvard end of 
the grand stand, and the catcher, who had the 
ball, took his eye off me for an instant to see 
what the matter was — and how I scooted! 
Charlie, you remind me of myself, that 
way.” 

“ Gee ! ” remarked the blushing and gratified 
champion base runner of the St. Michaels. 

“Well, I slid ten feet on my stomach, but 
I managed to get there ahead of the ball, 
by about six inches. At all events, the umpire 
called it safe, and I didn’t kick, though the 
Harvards did. The next man got his base on 
balls, so I needn’t have risked it as it turned 
out, for I would have been pushed along any- 
way. 

“Then came Larry Elkins, and he gave a 
beautiful whack into the bleachers, that sent 
us all around, and put us two runs to the 
good. The next two men fanned out, so 
the score then stood 4 to 2 in our favour, 
with Harvard’s half of the inning for them to 
tie us. 

“ Of course we thought we had them cold, 


THE GREAT GAME 


119 


and you can guess how we felt when the first 
man made a home run. The Harvard crowd 
went crazy — they howled and yelped and 
screeched for five minutes, and the umpire 
called time. 

“ The second man struck out, and we 
breathed again. The third man got to first 
on his own hit ; stole second, and reached 
third on a wild throw by our catcher. After 
five minutes of more roars from the Harvards, 
every one settled down till it was so still you 
could have heard a pin drop. 

“ The next batter up was the third baseman 
Frank had warned me against. He came up 
with a smirk on his face, and grasped his stick 
with ‘ a-three-bagger-at-least ’ written all over 
him. Crack — went his bat, and out flew the 
ball over our pitcher’s and short-stop’s heads. 
On it went sailing away, pointing up over 
mine, too. The sun got in my eyes, and I 
could hardly see, anyway, but I ran on blindly, 
till I figured it was somewhere near me. 
Then I turned and ran sideways a few feet, 
looking back over my shoulder. There it was 
— high above me still — and going like a cannon- 


120 


JUST BOYS 


ball. Could I jump it ? I took a fresh start — 
ran till I had almost reached the fence — then 
gave a tremendous leap — and the next thing I 
knew, I had that ball stuck to my hands as 
though it had grown there, and never meant 
to get away. 

“Then you should have heard the Tale 
crowd 1 The Harvards’ performances had been 
like a deaf mute social. I stood still, trying 
to get my breath for a minute, till the boys 
came and carried me in on their shoulders. And 
right there right in the thick of the jam was my 
uncle, the tears running down his face, and he 
said : — ‘ Dick, I guess you get just about fifty 
dollars for making that catch ’ — and he handed 
it over then and there ! Kah — rah — rah — rah 
— rah — rah — rah — rah — rah — Yale ! ” shouted 
the curate, laughing, as a wind-up. 

“Gee! Wasn’t it great!” shrieked the 
choir class, while loud cries for more filled the 
air. 

“ No, time’s up,” declared the curate ; “ but 
baseball’s a great game, and you fellows want 
to work as hard as you know how all the time 
between now and next Saturday for if Frank 


THE GEEAT GAME 


121 


Wilmer’s at all like himself, he’ll have a team 
down here that can knock the stuffing out of 
you ! ” 

Every afternoon for the coming week, the 
devoted St. Michaels might have been seen on 
the field, batting, running, pitching, throwing, 
doing every sort of practice that could help on 
the good work. For beat those St. Gabriels 
they must and they would. Their captain, 
Christie McCourt, found them only too eager 
to harken to his slightest command. 

The equally devoted altar boys allowed 
themselves to be drawn into most hard fought 
contests for the sake of the cause. Strained 
fingers and lame arms were the order of 
the day, and the households of the coming 
heroes reeked with the fumes of arnica, witch- 
hazel, liniment, and decoctions of all kinds, 
while older brothers were pressed into the 
service as rubbers and bandagers. Allie, the 
pitcher, practiced so incessantly throwing at a 
mark, that his eyes began to feel bias, he said, 
and his precious arm was compelled to rest, 
done up in flannel, for fear of overstraining. 
The basemen timed themselves to see which 


122 


JUST BOYS 


could make the best sprinting record. The 
battery became so perfect in their system of 
signals, that Allie could tell just what kind of 
ball Georgie was going to call for by the way 
he wriggled his nose. 

The tension was painful, and it was with a 
general feeling of relief that the great day 
dawned. No practice was allowed on that 
eventful morning, only some light work in the 
gymnasium to keep the muscles limber. 

An earl}^ afternoon train brought the 
buoyant and wiry St. Gabriels, with their 
athletic young rector, Mr. Wilmer, who was at 
once taken forcible possession of by Mr. Tilson, 
and carried oif to the parish house. 

The game had been looked forward to by all 
the boys in town, and the bleachers were filled 
long before the time appointed. The grand 
stand, also, was crowded. Not by boys alone, 
either — bright ribbons and fluttering curls were 
generously sprinkled about. And not by 
young people only. Plenty of the staid and 
grown up element found it quite in their way 
to saunter out to the pleasant, shady field, with 
the prospect of a good struggle in view, for the 


THE GREAT GAME 


123 


prowess of the two nines had won them a far- 
reaching reputation. 

At last the decisive hour approached. 
Deafening cheers greeted the arrival of the 
visiting nine, as it trotted out on the diamond 
for preliminary practice. It looked strong and 
muscular, and some faint hearts began to have 
misgivings. The home team appeared smaller 
and lighter when it, in turn, took its position 
and began to warm up. Mr. Waters, the 
genial and sportive young clergyman from 
across the way, was to act as umpire, and 
he, too, being extremely popular, was greeted 
with hearty applause, as he ordered : — “ Play 
ball.” 

The two captains, meantime, had been con- 
ferring together, and the St. Gabriels had won 
the toss. 

“ Batter up,” commanded Mr. Waters, and 
Billy Wells, heading the heavy batters of the 
St. Michaels, took his place. 

Breathless silence ensued for a moment — 
then, whizz sped the white sphere from the 
pitcher’s hands, landing with a neat plop in 
those of the catcher, while the devastating 


124 


JUST BOYS 


words — “ Strike one ” — sent the loyal St. 
Michaels’ hearts down to their boots, and cor- 
respondingly raised those of the St. Gabriels’. 

Strike one was followed in rapid succession 
by strike two and strike three, and before the 
astonished St. Michaels could realize the over- 
whelming fact, their main dependence — the 
sturdy batsman, whose strong right arm had 
been counted on to send the ball across the 
river if need be, had struck out, and was shuf- 
fling back to the bench, his head down, and an 
air of utter dejection surrounding him. 

The St. Gabriel pitcher’s curves were baffling 
indeed to the St. Michaels, and two more 
mainstays fell before his deceitful delivery, 
after gently fanning the air in their surprise. 
Gloom already had descended on the bleachers, 
and, on the grand stand, the supporters of the 
visiting team were not sufflciently numerous to 
dispel entirely the prevailing atmosphere of 
surprised disappointment. 

However, Allie proved as much of a puzzle 
to the visitors as their pitcher had been to the 
home team, and he repeated his rival’s per- 
formance of striking out the other side. So 


THE GEEAT GAME 


125 


that, after the first inning, things settled 
down, and the two nines, having taken each 
other’s measure, prepared to contend in earnest. 

They were pretty evenly matched, and 
through four innings neither had the advan- 
tage. A home run by Christie put delirious joy 
into the hearts and tongues of his associates, 
but a St. Gabriel performed the same feat in 
the next inning. After the first few innings 
both pitchers were batted freely, the young 
arms not having the strength to keep up the 
swift, and consequently puzzling, delivery. 

“ Pretty good curves that fellow has, Dick,” 
remarked Mr. Wilmer. “ I wouldn’t be at all 
surprised to hear of him later on.” 

“ Yes, Allie has the makings of a fair pitcher, 
I think myself,” returned Mr. Tilson, conceal- 
ing his pride ; “ but your star can pitch some, 
too.” 

“I’ve been coaching him myself,” replied 
Mr. "Wilmer, modestly, “ so he ought to.” 

Matters had progressed until the sixth in- 
ning, without much change, the score then 
standing 8 to 6 in favour of the St. Michaels, 
when, all at once, disaster, fleet and fatal. 


126 


JUST BOYS 


loomed above its banners. Charlie, its swift- 
footed, lithe-limbed third baseman, after bat- 
ting out a beautiful long liner, just where none 
of the fielders could reach it in time to field it 
back, started on his tour of the bases with a 
cheering certainty of reaching home safely, 
when his foot slipped, and down went the 
runner, lying still in his tracks. 

Over rushed the umpire, and the other mem- 
bers of the nine, closely followed by the two 
young clergymen. Poor Charlie’s face was 
very white, and his ankle was twisted under 
him. 

“ Bring him over to the side lines,” directed 
Mr. Tilson, and willing hands carried the light 
figure to a bench where a hastily improvised 
couch was made of the bright red sweaters be- 
longing to the visitors. 

“ Oh, Mr. Tilson, let me up — I must get that 
run I ” murmured the white lips, not quite 
knowing what they said. 

“ Poor little chap I It’s a shame ! ” cried the 
tender-hearted rector of the St. Gabriels. 

“ How about the game, Tilson ? ” asked the 
umpire ; “ is it off ? I suppose so. Poor 


THE GEEAT GAME 


127 


Charlie, and poor every one I They’ll be so 
disappointed.” 

“ Say, Mr. Tilson, I can play some.” The 
speaker was Jimmy Knight, well known to the 
umpire, of whose flock he had made one, up to 
within a very recent date. 

“He can that, Tilson,” corroborated Mr. 
Waters ; “ better try him.” 

“ You’ll have to speak to the captain,” re- 
turned Mr. Tilson, who believed in respecting 
the proper authorities ; “here, Christie, Jimmy 
says he can play, and Mr. Waters endorses 
him ; shall we put him in, now that poor Charlie 
is out of it ? ” 

The St. Michael’s captain was a person of 
rapid decisions and convincing utterance. 

“ Git into that extra uniform, Jim, ’n git 
into the game, quick I ” he observed, without 
further parley. And Jim got. 

And, in a few minutes, the disappointed 
young sufferer, having been made comfortable, 
the injured ankle bandaged by Mr. Tilson’s ex- 
perienced hands, and its owner propped up 
with jackets that he might watch the game, 
play was resumed. 


128 


JUST BOYS 


The new third baseman proved to be quite 
as skillful in the field as any of his fellows, and 
his batting arm was certainly no less effective 
than their own. Kap, went his bat, and off 
flew the ball as nimbly as any of the veterans 
could make it fly. Kuns piled up on both 
sides, and, at the eighth inning, the score stood 
13 to 11, but this time in favour of the St. Ga- 
briels. 

“Better get busy, Dick, if you’re going 
to do any winning to-day,” crowed their 
rector. 

“ It does look a little as though things were 
going your way,” returned Mr. Tilson, “ but 
don’t do any shouting yet.” 

“All right, I won’t, then, but tell me 
when to begin,” retorted the exulting Mr. 
Wilmer. 

The decisive ninth inning commenced amid 
great excitement. Two runs must be made 
up to tie the score. Kemembering their cu- 
rate’s story of the stubborn Yale victory un- 
der similar circumstances, the St. Michaels set 
their teeth, and resolved to do or die. Georgie 
Childs was the first at the bat, and enthusias- 


THE GEEAT GAME 


129 


tic applause greeted his neat base hit, which, 
being followed by a high fly by Allie, which 
was muffed by the left fielder, the two runners 
reached home in safety, and the score was tied. 

one out !” shouted the captain; “now, 
fellers, we’ve got ’m.” 

But the next two men ignominiously struck 
out, in their agitation, and a deep groan arose 
from the watchers. 

Then out stepped Jimmy, the substitute. 
There was a look in his eye that meant busi- 
ness. l^ot in the least flustered or hurried, he 
deliberately grasped his bat, waited till three 
balls had been called on him, and then, as he 
saw one to his liking come spinning along, he 
hit it with great precision directly between the 
short stop’s legs, and sped like a deer, amid the 
shrill howls of the assembled multitude. Slow- 
ing up a minute at first, but hearing agonized 
“ go ons — go ons ” from every side as the short 
stop, after frantically twisting and turning to 
pick up the ball, finally, in his excitement, 
threw it some ten feet over the first baseman’s 
head, he continued his flight around the bases, 
and fell, a breathless but happy heap across 


130 


JUST BOYS 


the home plate, just ahead of the ball, which 
had eluded the fielders till too late to put out 
the runner. 

The wildest confusion ensued. Cheer after 
cheer rent the air, as Jimmy, regaining his 
wind, walked proudly and redly back to the 
bench, tipping his cap to the grand stand, in 
response to its recognition of his efforts. 

This staggering feat, coming, as it did, after 
a hard fought and wearing struggle, seemed 
to weaken the spirit of the visiting nine, for 
its batters struck out in one, two, three order, 
thereby bringing the game to a speedy con- 
clusion, with a final score of 14 to 13 in favour 
of the St. Michaels. 

Long and loud was the shouting, and the 
happy substitute to whom belonged the glory 
of making the winning run tasted the novel 
sensation of being a hero. 

“ Glee I But you made good, Jim I ” ex- 
claimed the incapacitated champion sprinter, 
generously. 

“Jimmy, Pm proud of you!” cried Mr. 
Tilson, clapping him on the back. 

“Yes, indeed, Jimmy, I’m proud, too; you 


THE GEEAT GAME 


131 


reflect great credit on my judgment,” put in 
his former pastor, laughing delightedly. 

“ Come on, fellers, let’s carry Jim back to 
the house ! ” and the rest of the team, laugh- 
ing and shouting, picked up their hero, and 
bore him off in triumph. 

“ Stop in at my study, Frank, when you get 
through,” called Mr. Tilson to his friend, who 
had been watching the last inning from the 
side lines, and who was now actively engaged 
in administering consolation to his defeated 
nine, some of whom were darkly inclined to 
tears. 

“ Never mind, boys,” he was saying, “ we’ll 
have a series, and make this the first. Better 
luck next time. There’d be no fun in meeting 
a weak nine ; you want a rattling good one 
like this to play against. Give them three 
cheers this time, and perhaps the next, the 
cheers will be on you.” 

And the St. Gabriels, thus stimulated, set 
up a rousing tribute to the skill of their ene- 
mies. 

‘‘ Come in with me. Waters, I want you to 
know Wilmer better ; he’s a mighty good fel- 


132 


JUST BOYS 


low, if he is my own sort,” urged Mr. Tilson, 
as the two clergymen strolled back to the par- 
ish house. 

“All right,” returned Mr. Waters; “Pd be 
glad to,” and the two young men were soon 
deep in recollections of their own college games. 

“ Here he is at last,” cried the curate, as 
steps were heard outside ; “ come in, Frank ; 
what are you stopping to knock for ? ” 

The door swung slowly open, disclosing, not 
the stalwart form and broad shoulders of the 
athletic rector of St. Gabriel’s, but two small 
and shrinking figures, which resolved them- 
selves into the captain of the victorious team, 
and his triumphant substitute. 

“ Why, boys, what’s the matter ? You look 
as though you were going to be hung. What’s 
happened ? ” 

“Jim’s got something to tell you, Mr. 
Waters,” began the captain, turning to the late 
umpire, his cheeks flushing and his dark blue 
eyes filling with tears of mortification ; “ we 
ain’t won that game, after all.” 

“ What in the world ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Tilson, while Jimmy’s ex-pastor added : — 



“Jim’s got something to tell you, Mr. Waters, we ain’t 
won that game after all.” 





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THE GEEAT GAME 


133 


“ Not won it I Of course you have — speak 
up, Jimmy, what do you mean ? ” 

“Why, Mr. Waters, I never touched that 
third base,” faltered the poor substitute. “ I 
was running so fast, I just slid by, ’n I never 
stopped to think till afterwards.” 

“ ’N of course if we didn’t win fair, we don’t 
want to win at all,” supplemented his leader, 
simply. 

“ Besides,” added the recent comer, “ Mr. 
Tilson he’d make us tell, anyhow.” Jimmy 
had had some experience of his new clergy- 
man’s methods. 

“ Well, my boy,” replied Mr. Tilson, slowly, 
“ I hope I should, but it would have been pretty 
hard to own up when I was your age, especially 
if the umpire hadn’t noticed it. However, as 
Christie says, we can’t take victories that don’t 
belong to us, so we’ll just call this game a tie, 
and perhaps next time we’ll do better.” 

“ Call this game a tie — what are you talk- 
ing about? ’’put in Mr. Wilmer, just then 
returned from sustaining his broken-spirited 
team. 

“ Why, it seems we didn’t win, after all. 


134 JUST BOYS 

Jimmy, here, passed third base without touch- 
ing it.” 

“ He says so, does he ? ” returned Mr. "Wil- 
mer, looking hard at poor Jimmy, who flushed 
scarlet under his gaze. 

“Yes, sir,” faltered that culprit, “I ran 
right by ’n never ” 

“Well, Jimmy, I’m sorry to be obliged to 
accuse you of not telling the truth, but I hap- 
pened to be standing close by the base, be- 
cause when I saw you making the circuit, I 
thought how easy it would be for you to slide 
by without touching it, and the rest would be 
so excited they wouldn’t notice it. So, there I 
was, ready to spot you, and, whatever you may 
thinlcy your foot stepped squarely on one corner 
as you flew past, and here I am to prove it.” 

“ Oh, Chris ! ” exclaimed the now completely 
unstrung substitute, throwing his arms around 
his captain’s neck. 

“ Bully I ” replied that leader briefly, but to 
the point, so far forgetting himself as to return 
the hug. “ I told you some one would a seen it 
if you’d skipped it,” and the two boys rushed 
joyfully off to restore their fellows once more 


THE GEEAT GAME 


135 


to the heights of that rejoicing from which 
they had been so cruelly plunged. 

“ So, ‘ Mr. Tilson would make us tell, any- 
how,’ would he ? ” observed Mr. Waters, re- 
flectively. “ Pretty good hold you’ve got over 
them, Tilson — how do you do it? I wish 
you’d give me a few lessons.” 

“ Well,” returned the boys’ own curate, “ I 
should say Jimmy had had a pretty good train- 
ing before he ever came to us. Send us over 
any more black sheep you may happen to have 
on hand. Waters ; this kind is good enough for 
me.” 


X 


A CHOIR ROOM ZOO 

THEKE is Allie this morning — I 
\/\/ missed him in church ? ’’ asked 
* ^ Miss Chalmers, coming into the 
choir room for the lesson. 

‘‘ Oh, he feels so badly about Polly, he 
couldn’t sing,” spoke up Charlie ; “ she’s been 
lost three days.” 

‘‘ Hasn’t he found her yet ? Oh, poor Allie I 
Ho wonder he couldn’t sing. Well, we must 
begin without him, I suppose.” 

‘‘ Here he is now,” broke in an eager voice 
near the door. 

And in came a small, red-eyed, swollen- 
nosed, husky- voiced Allie, closely hugging to 
his breast a fluffy ball of soft gray feathers 
with red tipped wings and crest. 

“ Oh, Allie ! You’ve found her ! The dear 
little thing ! Tell us all about it ! ” exclaimed 
Miss Chalmers ; “ the lesson must wait.” 

136 



Oh, Allie, you’ve found her— the dear little thing— tell us all about it. 








A CHOIR ROOM ZOO 


137 


Well, I got up early this morning, ’n went 
up on the hill back of the house, ’n I called ’n 
called, but nothin’ answered, ’n I ’bout made 
up my mind she was gone for good. Then I 
happened to think of some blackberry vines 
over by the brook, ’n when every one had gone 
to church, ’n it was all quiet, I tried callin’ her 
again, ’n at last I thought I heard a little 
scratchin’ noise, ’n I went over ’n there she 
was, w-with her little f-feet all c-caught fast, 
’n so weak ’n hungry she could hardly speak,” 
faltered poor Allie, his tears flowing afresh at 
the remembrance. 

A brisk interchange of handkerchiefs was 
progressing among the rest of the class, while 
Miss Chalmers choked palpably. 

“ Oh, Allie ! And what did you do, dear ? ” 
I took her up, ’n she cuddled her little head 
in my neck, ’n she said : — ‘ K-kiss me, Allie, 
P-Polly’s s-si-ick,’ ” sobbed Allie, in a general 
mingling of tears, while little Polly, her eyes 
closed, crooned in exhausted but happy con- 
tentment. 

“What in the world is the matter with 
everybody ? ” cried a cheerful voice from the 


138 


JUST BOYS 


door. Miss Chalmers, are you all in disgrace 
together — and have I got to pull you out of 
the scrape ? 

It did not take long to put Mr. Tilson in 
possession of the facts, and he fully appre- 
ciated the magnitude of the event which 
had caused such deep seated emotion in the 
choir room. 

“ Perhaps I’d better stay and help you out 
with the lesson, instead of going to walk,” he 
suggested, and his disinterested offer was joy- 
fully accepted, a visit from the popular curate 
being always hailed with rejoicing. 

“ Lot’s Wife is our topic to-day,” began Miss 
Chalmers, recovering her composure. “ Jimmy, 
you may draw the picture.” 

A broad smile diffused itself over the faces 
turned in pleased welcome towards the door 
behind her, through which stalked a great 
tawny, black-striped tiger, his tail waving 
proudly aloft, a benevolent smile on his face, 
and a large pink bow under his chin. 

Pausing only to rub up against his old friend, 
Mr. Tilson, in kindly greeting, and casting an 
approving glance of good fellowship impartially 


A CHOIE BOOM ZOO 


139 


over the choir class, the tiger made a dive for 
Miss Chalmers’ lap, and purred loudly. 

“ Why, Brownie I ” exclaimed his mistress, 
“ how did you get out ? It is all I can do to 
keep him from following me to Sunday-school, 
but this time I thought I had him safely locked 
up. Christie, you run home with him — go 
with Christie, pussy pet.” 

“ Oh, Miss Chalmers, let him stay, he’s so 
good,” pleaded his young friends, and Brownie, 
planting his claws firmly in Miss Chalmers’ 
gown, and emphatically expressing his deter- 
mination not to move, was finally allowed to 
make one of the class. 

“But we must begin now,” decreed the 
young teacher, mindful, out of the corner of 
her own eye, of a twinkle in Mr. Tilson’s. 
“ Jerome, you tell the story.” 

“ Lot, he ” began Jerome, then broke off 

short, and giggled. 

“What is it now?” asked Miss Chalmers, 
following his eyes. 

Two fuzzy tips were sticking in the door- 
way. They pushed farther and farther in, till 
they resolved themselves into two long brown 


140 


JUST BOYS 


ears. Besides the ears, there was a rough nose, 
two bright little eyes, a very small shaggy 
body, and four little feet, which walked in 
boldly, evidently expecting a warm welcome. 

“ Why, it’s Wee Willie Winkie,” exclaimed 
Miss Chalmers ; “ how did you come here, 
sir?” 

“ I tied him up to the gate so tight I didn’t 
think he could get loose,” returned Charlie ; 
“ but he can untie ’most any knot with his 
teeth, if he can reach it.” 

“Here, Winkie,” said Mr. Tilson, “come 
over here by the door. You don’t seem to 
know this is a Sunday-school class which is 
trying to say its lesson ! ” And Winkie, his 
nose buried in Mr. Tilson’s pocket, settled 
down to contentment and sugar, being per- 
fectly at home in places where small donkeys 
are not usually encouraged. 

“There are advantages in having a choir 
room entirely detached from the church, and 
with an entrance of its own,” went on Mr. 
Tilson, laughing, “ but, unless you really need 
more scholars, it might be well to close the 
door.” 


A OHOIE EOOM ZOO 


141 


“ There can’t be any more to-day, I’m sure,” 
returned Miss Chalmers; ‘‘ go on, Jerome.” 

“And the angels said: ‘Don’t you dare 

look back, or you’ll be sorry ’ ” continued 

Jerome, conscientiously. 

“ Oh, look who’s here,” interrupted Christie, 
chuckling, and Miss Chalmers, beginning to 
redden a little, turned to view one black eye 
and one white one, shining above a wrinkled 
nose at the beginning of a plump, white body, 
ending in a stubby, wriggling tail. 

“ Mike ! This is getting too much ! ” she 
cried, as a young and lively bulldog, of the 
most approved points, and wearing an amiably 
ferocious smile, pranced in and threw himself 
all over Georgie, with joyful barks. 

“ I left him shut up at home, honest I did. 
Miss Chalmers,” deprecated Georgie, holding 
back the exuberant Mike by his collar. 

“ Oh, please let him stay now ; he’ll be quiet, 
’n Brownie doesn’t mind him,” pleaded the 
choir class. 

And, as a matter of fact. Brownie, having 
had many a friendly tussle with Mike, out of 
which he invariably emerged the victor, smiled 


142 


JUST BOYS 


approvingly upon the snub-nosed friend of his 
youth, and purred his loudest. 

“Well, I suppose they can all stay, now 
they’re here, and I’m not at all sure they 
aren’t the best behaved scholars in the room,” 
consented Miss Chalmers ; “ but we don’t want 
Mr. Tilson to think this is the way we have 
our lesson generally.” 

“ Oh, no indeed ; I’m sure the boys are usu- 
ally worn to the bone by their strenuous ef- 
forts,” returned Mr. Tilson. 

“ Jimmy, you’d better begin your picture,” 
said Miss Chalmers, ignoring the flippancy ; 
“ no, the twenty minutes are up, and we can’t 
have it after all. But I give notice now, that 
this class will meet for the lesson we didn’t 
have at my house on Wednesday afternoon, 
and only regular members will be expected on 
that occasion.” 

“Well, if we can’t come then,” put in Mr. 
Tilson, “we think we had better make as 
much of an appearance as we can, while we 
can.” And with this, he drew from an inside 
pocket a little ball of black silk. 

“ Oh, it’s Little Black Lilly 1 ” screamed the 


A OHOIE BOOM ZOO 


143 


delighted choir class ; “ why didn’t you let her 
out before, Mr. Wilson ? ” 

“Well, I didn’t seem to think Miss Chal- 
mers really wanted any more scholars to-day,” 
replied the curate, laughing. “ Isn’t she a lit- 
tle daisy ? ” he went on, proudly ; “ don’t let 
Mike eat her up, Georgie.” 

“ Oh, Mike wouldn’t hurt a fly,” declared 
Mike’s doting owner. 

“Make her do some tricks, Mr. Tilson, 
jplease I ” pleaded the others. 

“ Be dead, Lilly,” commanded her master. 
Over went the little black ball, stiff and stark, 
one eye only winking up to see what was 
going on. 

“ Now, jump up on the table and bring my 
hat,” was the next order, when the stiffened 
corpse had been restored to life once more. 

Away sped the little creature, springing 
from a chair on to the table, from which she 
pushed the hat to the floor. Then, jumping 
down herself, she tugged and shoved and 
dragged it along, being too small to do more 
than set her little teeth in the rim, until she 
reached her master, when she hopped in. 


144 


JUST BOYS 


curled herself into a ball, and waited expect- 
antly to be taken up and petted. 

‘‘ More — more,” cried the boys, eagerly. 

“Here, Lilly,” responded Mr. Tilson, toss- 
ing down a bit of candy, “ put your paw on 
that.” Out went the little black paw. “ On 
trust ! ” continued the curate. Lilly stood 
motionless. “ Paid for.” And, with one snap 
of the little red mouth, down went the coveted 
morsel. 

“ Lilly isn’t the only four-footed scholar who 
can do tricks,” interposed Miss Chalmers, 
jealously. “ Brownie, darling, sit up and shake 
hands.” Up went the tawny tiger with the 
pink bow, like a ramrod, and offered his hand 
right and left, to his admiring friends. This 
feat he followed by rolling over, jumping 
through a hoop at three times his height, and 
kissing, by request, the tip of any nose that 
presented itself for that mark of affection. 

“Hi! Hi! Bow- wow- wow — siss ! Sic ’em I 
Sic ’em ! Cats ! ” shrieked Polly, aroused for 
the first time from her safe but sleepy refuge 
under Allie’s chin. 

“ The dear little thing! ” exaclaimed Miss 


A CHOIR ROOM ZOO 


145 


Chalmers ; ‘‘ she is beginning to feel like her- 
self, isn’t she ? ” 

“ Get out I Get out ! Twenty- three ! Skid- 
doo ! ” returned Polly, snapping at the pretty 
fingers petting her red crested head. 

“ Hot quite dead, is she, Allie ? ” laughed 
Mr. Tilson. “ Here, Charlie, what’s the mat- 
ter with Winkie? Why isn’t he doing his 
stunts, too, with the rest of the scholars ? ” 

“ I haven’t got anything to give him,” re- 
plied Charlie, somewhat mortified at having 
to confess the mercenary spirit of his pet. 

“ Let him have this maple sugar,” suggested 
Miss Chalmers ; ‘‘now, Winkie, show what you 
can do, sir.” 

And Wee Willie Winkie, under pressure, 
shook hands as ardently as Brownie, laughed, 
sneezed, stood on his hind legs, and bowed to 
the applauding audience. 

“ How, it’s Mike’s turn,” declared Georgie, 
by no means proposing to have his pupil’s 
brilliancy detracted from by these lesser lights; 
“ he can’t do but one thing, ’n it’s taken him 
about three months to learn that — but it’s aw- 
ful hard.” 


146 


JUST BOYS 


At bis command, Mike advanced into the 
centre of the room, bowed politely, ‘‘ spoke,” 
then slowly and carefully lowered his head, 
balanced himself on it for a moment, and 
gradually turned a complete somersault. 

“ Well, that is a trick I Come here, old fel- 
low,” cried Mr. Tilson, as the pleased and 
smiling Mike made the rounds of his friends, 
fully appreciating his own achievements, and 
graciously accepting his well-earned praises. 

“Now we must go along — say good-bye, 
Lilly. We’ve had a most instructive morning. 
Miss Chalmers, let us know when you’re going 
to have any more lessons like this, please. 
We’ll give up our walk any time.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Tilson, make Lilly sing ! ” begged 
Christie. “ I know she hates it, but she’s so 
cunning 1 ” 

“ She’ll have to be bribed like Winkie, then,” 
returned Lilly’s proud master, not at all averse; 
“now then. Miss, will you sing pretty for 
this ? ” holding up an enticing bit of Winkie’s 
sugar. 

The little black and tan sprang up in his 
lap, planted her tiny feet firmly against his 


A CHOIR ROOM ZOO 


147 


shoulder, threw back her head, and lifted up 
her voice in a heart-rending wail. 

Louder and louder and shriller and more 
agonized it grew. “Higher — higher,” com- 
manded Mr. Tilson, and up soared the pierc- 
ing tones, till they rent the roof. 

Brownie began to wriggle uneasily. Back 
went his ears. His tail thumped ominously. 
“ Me-eo-meou-meow 1 ” he finally observed, 
disapprovingly, at the top of his lungs, in ear- 
splitting rivalry. 

This was more than sufficient intimation to 
Mike that his services were required^ and, tak- 
ing his cue from his furry friend, he plunged 
into the “singing” contest, with a series of 
deafening barks on high C. 

Next, Polly, hearing in this an invasion of 
her own special province, promptly started a 
realistic imitation of an angry parrot, scream- 
ing at the height of its voice. 

While little Wee Willie Winkie, standing 
perfectly quiet and good as gold at the door, 
patiently waiting for Sunday-school to be 
over, felt that he owed it to himself to show 
these alleged singers what singing really was, 


148 


JUST BOYS 


and, entirely against his own wishes, and 
purely from philanthropic motives, he lifted 
up his own voice in a succession of the most 
penetrating brays. 

“Ah, my dear, aren’t the boys making a 
little more noise than usual ? ” asked the kind 
old rector, putting his head in at the vestry 
door, and once again congratulating himself 
on the wisdom of holding the choir class at a 
different hour from the rest of the school. 

“Just a little, rector,” returned Mr. Tilson. 
“ Come in, sir, and see what you think of Miss 
Chalmers’ new scholars.” 

“Well — well !” exclaimed the rector. “I 
think if I had been sent to a class like this, I 
should not have dreaded Sunday-school as I am 
sorry to say I did. My teacher didn’t approve 
of much of anything that boys liked,” he went 
on, picking up Lilly, and gently scratching 
Winkie’s long ears, without commenting on 
their presence — no one ever being surprised at 
anything that might take place in the choir 
class, which, owing to the Bishop’s tender- 
hearted concern at the restraint imposed by 
the long services on the young choristers, was 


A CHOIE EOOM ZOO 


149 


exempt from all ordinary rules, and was only 
held together by the constant ingenuity of its 
resourceful and comprehendingly sympathetic 
guardians. 

“We’ve got the nicest teacher ever, ’n Mr. 
Tilson, he’s a dandy, too ! ” responded their 
appreciative charges, greatly to the embarrass- 
ment of Miss Chalmers and the curate, un- 
accustomed to such public and unqualified 
approval. 

“ ’N that ain’t all,” shouted Christie ; “ we 
got the best rector in the whole world, ain’t 
we, fellers ? ” 

“You bet we have ! ” chorused his loyal col- 
leagues, affectionately precipitating themselves 
upon the kind old man with vigorous bear 
hugs, and vanishing in the series of wild war- 
whoops which, on the Day of Best, proclaimed 
to all within hearing that Saint Michael’s 
choir class was dismissed. 






1. T. THURSTON 

The 
Bishop’s 
Shadow , 

A Story of a 
Boston Street Boy, 

25th Thousand. 
^Illustrated, cloth, $1.25. 

Hard to please is the boy who will not warm 
up at once to Tode, the captivating little street 
urchin of Boston, in his effort to make a ' 
living. The author knows just what every 
boy likes and the realistic description of the 
struggles of the street boys^ how they rough it 
without a home, how they form friendships 
and political combinations, and generously j 
share each other’s joys and hard knocks, is ^ 
told in a way that will hold every one to the 
end. Here is the same character that Alger 
in his ^^Ragged Dick” Series has made so 
popular among young people. 

“It will be read and re-read in every home. We 
know a father who read it to his eight-year-old boy, 
and it is hard to tell which enjoyed it most.” — Pacific. 

“I have read it with delight. It is one of the very 
best stories of the kind. It has deep purpose, touching 
pathos, exceedingly well-written .” — James M. Ludlow 
(Author of “The Captain of the Janizaries”). 

“It is a story fitted to captivate the interest and ap- 
peal to the best impulses of young and old alike.” — 
TimeS’Herald (Chicago), 




EGERTON R. YOUNG 


My Dogs in the Northland 

Author of “On the Indian Trail,” etc. 

IQth Thousand. Illustrated, $1.25 net. 

What boy does not love a dog ? Egerton R. 
Young’s experiences with dogs in the frozen 
wilds of North America are full of fascination 
and excitement. Terrible perils, wonderful 
escapes, and sudden emergencies are intermin- 
gled in his realistic narrative of his canine 
companions under a variety of circumstances, 
thrilling, dangerous and amusing. 

“Boys, animal-lovers, and those who like to read of 
adventure will find this book one to rejoice in greatly. 
Mr. Young gives us true sketches of his dogs who have 
shared his sledge journeys, his dangers, privations and 
odd experiences. Since ‘Bob, Son of Battle’ (which 
this book does not in the least resemble), there has 
been no better study of dog nature.” — Outlook. 

“It is first and foremost a series of charming dog 
stories written by one who possesses an unusually lov- 
ing, sympathetic insight into the ways of animals in 
general and dogs in particular. Told in a chatty, inti- 
mate fashion. Every animal lover will wish to add this 
book to his collection of dog stories.” — N. Y. Globe. 

“We are strongly tempted to characterize it as the 
best book about dogs that we have ever read. We most 
enthusiastically commend this book to all dog-lovers. 
Will delight them beyond measure .” — Syracuse Herald. 




NORMAN DUNCAN 


Adventures 
of 

Billy 
Topsail 

A Tale of 

Boy Life in Labrador. 

15th Thousand. 
Illustrated, cloth, 
$ 1 . 50 . 

A ripping story of adventure by sea is re- 
garded by every boy as the very best story of 
all. This book is crowded with adventure 
from the time Billy is nearly drowned by his 
dog, until in a big blizzard, lost on an ice-floe, 
he rescues Archibald’s son and the Old Dicta- 
tor weathers the gale. All who have read and 
relished “Treasure Island,” and 'Robinson 
Crusoe,” will recognize the same charm, with 
an attractive style all its own.” 

“Self-reliance and physical courage and unselfish 
heroism — these are the qualities that stir in the fasci- 
nating chapters of The Adventures of Bieey Top- 
sail.'' — Tribune (New York). 

“Billy sails, fishes, travels the ice, goes whaling, is 
swept to sea with the ice, captures a devil-fish, hunts 
a pirates’ cave, gets lost on a cliff, is wrecked, runs 
away — is interesting in a hundred ways.” — Westminster, 

* “Bound to be a favorite. Billy is a real boy full of 
spirit and courage .” — Boston Herald. 



DILLON WALLACE 


Ung'ava Bob 

A Tale of the Fur Trappers. 

12th Thousand. Illustrated, $1.50. 

This tale of Bob, the young fur trapper in 
the far frozen North has all the excitement 
and thrilling adventure that any boy could 
wish. Bob’s experiences on the trail, m the 
Indian’s camp, on the abandoned ship which he 
sailed into port, make fascinating reading. 
Moreover there is a strict adherence to fact 
which proves the author to have been thor- 
oughly familiar with the events of which he 
writes. The story is heart stirring for young 
or old from beginning to end. 

“The story is told with the 
greatest simplicity and nat- 
uralness, and the author has 
put int© it his own warm 
feeling toward the people of 
the frozen northland, whites, 

Indians and Eskimos alike.” 

— Pittsburg Post. 

“Should bring the sparkle 
to many a lad’s eye and make 
him wish in his day-dreams 
that he, too, might battle with 
dangers of cold and forest 
depth and heaving ice field.” 

— Chicago Post. 

“A thrilling story full of 
exciting incidents and hold- 
ing the interest of reader at 
highest pitch to its very close. 

Adventures and dangers and 
hairbreadth escapes.” — West^ 
minster. 

“A strong, virile 
book. The mystery 
of this most ob- 
scure comer of 
frozen north 
vades the pages. 




RALPH CONNOR 



Glengarry School Days 

Early Days in the Indian Lands. ’ 
85th Thousand, Illustrated. $1.25. 

Ralph Connor’s story of the out of door life 
has been called “Tom Brown in Buckskins.” 
It is certainly a jolly book full of fun and 
fighting, and suggesting in many ways, some 
of Mark Twain’s inimitable creations. Here 
one sees the old fashioned schoolmaster, his 
struggles with the growing lads. Here one 
will live over again the spelling match, the 
examination, the “scraps” of school day life ; 
indeed he will live in an atmosphere of free- 
dom and health in body and in mind. What 
more can be said. 

“Ralph Connor has produced a tale that not only will 
attract the youngsters, but will interest the older folk, 
perchance, even more closely. When an author of 
Ralph Connor’s undoubted genius is overtaken in that 
fashion things happen — and that is just what one finds 
in “Glengarry School Days” — things are happening all 
the time .” — Brooklyn Eagle. 

“This book is alive, human and wholesome. The 
whole is pervaded by an atmosphere of freedom and 
health, both moral and physical, that is as sovereign a 
tonic as the balsam odors of the Glengarry woods them- 
selves .” — Chicago Record-Herald. 

“Ralph Connor plays his game with a sincerity so 
absolutely convincing that one is swept along by his 
masterly impulse through page after page, feeling part 
and parcel of the life he depicts.” — Independent. 


A. B. WARNER 



West Point Colors 


Illustrated, cloth, $1.50. 

There is no subject that appeals more 
strongly to a boy than the life of a cadet at 
West Point. This clever story is of a typ- 
ical American boy, mettlesome, affectionate, 
and above all manly. Around the life in 
the barracks, in the camp and the parade 
grunds, is woven a magnetic tale ap- 
pealing to boys of all ages. The author has 
been many years in daily 'touch with the ca- 
dets and the incidents are truly drawn from 
real life at West Point to-day. 

“A jolly story, very real and natural, that young peo- 
ple of both sexes will thoroughly enjoy. The hero is 
a typical American boy, and around his life at the great 
military academy the author has written an engaging 
story .” — Detroit Free Press. 

“The hero is a likable American boy, who seems to 
be individual as well as typical. This lad of mettle is 
put through West Point and proves himself manly and 
capable. His life in the barracks, in the camp, on the 
parade ground make a fascinating narrative.” — Record- 
Herald (Chicago). 

“The hero of this story enters the institution as ’'a' ’ 
^plebe’ and has the usual run of fortune that falls to a , 
high-spirited lad when confronted by unyielding dis- 
cipline. Brass buttons and uniforms gray and blue have 
never lacked gentle admirers — and the fine young hero' 
is not permitted to languish without a complementary. , 
heroine. The story is a good one.” — Interior. e- 



FRANK T. BULLEN 


Denizens of the Deep 

Tales from the Sea World. 

Illustrated, cloth, $1.75 net. 

A wonderful new realm is opened up to the 
boy who reads this fascinating tale of the 
dwellers of the deep sea. Widely known on 
both sides of the Atlantic for his accurate 
knowledge of the natural life of the sea and 
for his rare power of narration, Mr. Bullen 
has done for these deep sea inhabitants what 
Thompson Seton has done for those of the 
woods. No boy who once starts to read these 
vivid and glowing pictures of the varied life 
of the ocean will stop until it is finished. 



“In a charming and original way Bullen enables the 
chief factors in his book to describe themselves ; such 
being the sperm whale, the shark, the mackerel, the 
flying fish and even the feathered booby and frigate 
bird .” — Daily News (Chicago). 

“Full of information conveyed in a delightful man- 
ner. The author writes easily and accurately, and his 
work, whether taken as a collection of interesting sto- 
ries of fish and of bird life, or as a contribution to 
popular natural history, is deserving of praise.” — Bal- 
timore Sun. 

“These stories of the dwellers in the deep sea really 
seem to take one into an utterly new world. Nothing 
could be more charming than the way Mr. Bullen makes 
the whale, the flying fish, the walrus, the 

dolphin, and many other interesting char- 
acters tell their own story.” — Journal 

(Chicago). 


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